Walking By
by BrainySmurf6
Summary: The girl turned on her heel, not sparing Booth another glance as she added, "For future reference, a philistine isn't a religious affiliation."  A 3 shot experiment in AU.  Inquire within.
1. Walking By

**An Author's Note (and explanation): **Soooo…when I broke my long hiatus from 'Truth', I mentioned you might see something slightly weird get posted. Then I promptly forgot about my intention to do so. But I found it last night, read through it and, perhaps unfortunately, I'm still intrigued by it enough to post.

What happened here, as you will soon be wondering, is that I was having a discussion with a friend on AU fic in general (not even in the Bones fandom), and how I'm not really a fan. So then the discussion became more of a challenge…her asking me if I could ever write one anyway. If I could keep the dynamic and the characters true in spite of the 'alternate' part of AU, etc etc. A lot of my original prose work is young adult fiction, so it was sort of suggested that I channel that. In the end, this is what happened. It's actually about a three shot, completed, but for right now, I'll start with this. Story title and lyrics come from a Something Corporate song.

(The AU liberties I took are, beyond the obvious of course, with age difference, and setting, etc etc.)

_Walking By_

_An experiment in the art of AU_

_She had warm summer eyes that flickered like fireflies,  
>when she stared at the world.<em>

_So why do you leave these stories unfinished,_  
><em>my Cheshire cat doorstop with tears in her eyes?<em>  
><em>Why do you look when you've already found it?<em>  
><em>What did you find that could leave you walking by?<em>

One of the most important events of Seeley Booth's life began with a pantsing.

It was Joey Dahl, forward on the John Adams High School hockey team, who ceremoniously looped his fingers around Harlan Kenny's stretchy belt and revealed, to a cheering cafeteria full of students, the kid's tighty whities that day at lunch.

But when the nerd haughtily approached the group of hockey players, hanging out at the top of the stairwell between classes, he seemed to have decided to seek his revenge on the collective group.

"I have something to say to all of you." Kenny announced, his voice already quivering in spite of the bravado he was attempting to project.

"Hey, Kenny," Joey leered, nudging Seeley. "Didn't quite recognize you with pants on."

Kenny lifted his face to Joey's, then let his eyes rest on each one of them, expression scornful. Booth almost had to give the guy credit for bravery.. Already a crowd had gathered around them on the stairwell, clearly anticipating more entertainment.

"An insult worthy of your intellect," Kenny simpered in the nasally voice that did him no favors. "As was that juvenile display in the cafeteria earlier. " For some reason, Kenny chose to pin his gaze on Booth as he delivered what he clearly thought was the crux of his brief monologue. "You're all a bunch of philistines."

Instantly, Booth bristled, recognizing the tone of an insult even if he didn't quite know the context. "I'm not _Philistine_, genius. I'm Catholic. And so is _he_." He jabbed a thumb in Joey's direction, then pointed to Tommy, the team's keeper. "And _him_."

For a moment, Kenny simply stared at them, openmouthed; then, he burst into hysterical, malicious laughter. "How kind of you to _instantly_ prove my point."

Joey's face was contorted in equal parts confusion and anger. Before Booth could retort, his friend was stepping forward and seizing Kenny easily by the armpits. "You want me to give you something to laugh at, funny boy?"

In an instant, Kenny's breathless chuckles turned into shrieks of panic as Joey lifted the slight boy and dangled him over the stairway, three floors up.

Whoops and cheers went up from the onlookers. Kenny was thrashing his legs uselessly in midair, his Adam's apple bobbing with panic. Laughter rose from Booth's chest; he had to admit it looked pretty funny.

"You makin' jokes now?" Joey demanded from behind Kenny. His voice was harsh, but also amplified; he was clearly playing to the crowd.

"_No, _no, I won't, please, just let me down…" Kenny was begging, and suddenly Booth's laughter felt cold in his chest; Kenny was nearly hyperventilating, his eyes bright with genuine terror and what looked like tears.

"I don't know," Joey said flatly, his voice mock contemplative. "Anyone think he's learned his lesson?"

A chorus of no's rose up from the crowd, and Booth said nothing to contradict him. He kept the smile plastered on his face and tried not to look too hard at Kenny's expression.

Then, suddenly, a voice cut through the jeers. "_Let_ him go, ingrate."

Startled, Booth turned, along with Joey, Kenny, and the rest of the gathered crowd, to see a younger girl glaring at Joey with a hot, dark gaze of smoldering hatred, even as she crossed her arms and sighed in a manner that conveyed utter boredom.

She had to be a freshmen or a sophomore, which explained why Booth had never seen her before. She was small and skinny, almost unhealthily so, a fact that was only emphasized by the oversized clothing she was nearly drowning in.

Her hair was stick straight and hung halfway down her back, and she wore no makeup, a fact that only emphasized the almost otherworldly quality of her eyes.

She wasn't even looking at him, and yet Booth's throat narrowed simply from glimpsing that shade of blue. It made him think of oceans or sky…anything that went on forever, anything you could drown in.

~(B*B)~

Temperance Brennan had recently developed a savior complex.

It happened the first time she ever punched someone. Shana Lynch, reigning queen of the pretty, the popular, and the privileged at this particular high school, had been wandering around the school grounds with her posse after the final bell several weeks ago, and they'd taken a picnic table beside the one where Brennan was doing her homework (and avoiding heading home).

Immediately, Shana began a very loud and very nasty conversation, speculating as to what, exactly, had landed Brennan in foster care.

Never one to confront, Brennan buried herself deeper in her chemistry book for as long as possible until Shana's suggestion that Brennan herself had "killed Mom and Dad and dissected the bodies. You know, she likes dead things much more than live ones anyway."

Swallowing her own fear with pure fury, Brennan had approached them. Only when the girls, all seven of them, turned to look at her, did she realize something.

She was no longer afraid of any fellow high school student. The very idea that she might be was suddenly ludicrous.

So, very calmly and deliberately, she'd given Shana Lynch a bloody nose.

Now, three weeks later, she was on yet another crusade. Her newfound fearlessness was powerful thing. There was logic behind it; on the off chance that the bullies she confronted fought back (and, as Brennan was learning, it was statistically unlikely that they would), nothing they would do to her would come close to what Sean did to her, every night.

This was her fourth high school in two years, third since entering the system. As the frequent victim of petty teenage abuse, Brennan had taken to channeling her newly discovered courage into sticking up for her more fearful counterparts.

Like Harlan Kenny.

"_Let_ him go, ingrate," she demanded as soon as she was able to shove her way through the crowd (quite a feat, considering she'd been within earshot of the entire exchange yet hadn't been able to approach).

The tall, stocky hockey player who was holding Kenny stared down at Brennan first in disbelief, than amusement. "What the hell do you plan to do about it?"

"Well you're going to let him down eventually," she said rationally. "Unless you want to potentially face charges of manslaughter or even attempted murder. The only question is…" Calmly, never breaking eye contact with the beefy jock, Brennan extracted her thickest textbook (pre-calculus) from her backpack. "…whether or not I'll propel the spine of this book into your testicles when you do so."

~(B*B)~

Booth's mouth fell open.

She'd really just said that. Some nobody freshmen/sophomore/whatever girl had just threatened _Joey_ _Dahl's_ testicles.

A low chorus of _ooh_'s lifted from the crowd around them. Shock, uncertainty, and anger flickered across Joey's face in quick succession, but then he firmly fixed a cocky smirk on his face.

"Looks like you've been rescued Kenny," Joey said, his tone mocking. "Your knight in shining armor rode to the rescue." He lifted the sniveling nerd over the railing and set him on his feet, though he didn't let go of him yet. Joey looked at Booth and the other guys. "What do you call a girl version of a knight?"

"A knighta?" Tommy Briggs suggested.

"Knightress?" Paul Mensick guessed.

Booth grinned. "Knightessa, maybe." For the first time, the girl's vivid blue gaze flicked to him, the look on her face suggesting it was usually reserved for lower life forms.

Then, she returned the glare to Joey, ignoring the conversation. "I said let him go, not just put him down."

Joey rolled his eyes. "Whatever." But he instinctively drew his legs together a little even as he released Kenny from his hold.

A disappointed murmur swept through the crowd, and slowly the audience began to disperse. Kenny, though, his face beet red, was scowling at the girl.

"Who asked you to get involved, _Mortitia_?" He sneered. "Just because you're a charity case doesn't mean everyone is."

"_Hey_." Booth, on the verge walking away, suddenly whirled, towering over Kenny. "How about some manners? Or some fucking gratitude, coward?" He looked back at the girl, who looked genuinely taken aback. "_Now_ can I hit him?"

Moving her eyes from Kenny to him, with that same dismissive look, she shook her head once, then calmly drove her fist into Harlan Kenny's throat.

As he crumpled, gagging and choking, she turned her heated gaze on Booth. "That won't be necessary." She turned on her heel, not sparing him another glance as she added, "For future reference, a philistine _isn't_ a religious affiliation."

~(B*B)~

"So who was she?" Booth asked at first opportunity, careful to hide the eagerness in the question.

The hockey team was in the locker room, suiting up for practice, and Harlan Kenny and the confrontation at the staircase was the subject of scrutiny.

One of the sophomore second stringers, Ryan Kirk, spoke up, eager to provide Booth, a senior and team captain, with information. "Some genius foster kid. She's a sophomore, but she's in all these advanced classes…and everyone says she's a real creep. Obsessed with dead things."

"It's true," one of the other sophomores, whose name Booth couldn't remember, put it quickly. "My friend was in her bio class, and apparently she wanted to reassemble some dead cat skeleton she found for extra credit. And the teacher _let_ her. She, like, brought in all the random bones and stuff."

The others were off, discussing the girl's apparent obsession with bones and death, her foster homes, and her "hilarious" confrontation of Joey.

But all Booth could think of was the pang that hit him somewhere in the chest every time the girl looked directly at him, no matter how hostile her gaze.

~(B*B)~

"So what is it?"

Brennan jumped. She was in the library, during free period, poring over an SAT practice test, when the voice came from directly behind her.

She turned in her chair to see one of the hockey players from yesterday, the one who'd offered to hit Kenny after his idiotic insults.

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. "What is what?"

"A philistine." He came around in front of her, leaning on the table she'd commandeered for her various textbooks. "If it's not a religion, what is it?"

Brennan sighed, "Are you familiar with a dictionary?"

"Won't it be easier for you tell me?"

"Not for me," she stated bluntly.

The boy raised an eyebrow, then grinned. "Fair enough." He paused long enough to take a breath, then asked, "Would it really have killed Kenny? If Joey had dropped him?"

"No, not from that height," she answered absently. "Though he would have been injured…he could have potentially fractured his cuboids, or his fibulas, or possibly even, depending on the landing, a femur. There would have most likely been some vertical compression of the vertebrae as well."

The older boy gaped at her. "Huh?"

"They're _bones_," Brennan explained impatiently.

"Bones, huh?" He repeated, amusement flickering in his eyes for some reason.

"Could you please go somewhere else?" she asked without preamble. "I allocated the full time of my free period for studying."

For a moment, he looked like he might protest, but then he just shrugged. "Sure. I'll see you." He turned around, revealing the name on the back of his hockey jersey: Booth.

Then he was gone, leaving Brennan distracted with the memory of symmetrical features, and the surprising softness of them, up close.

~(B*B)~

The next day, Booth was pulling out of the parking lot after practice when he saw her. Although it was two and a half hours since the final bell had dismissed classes, it appeared the girl who'd hit Kenny was only now leaving school.

On foot.

Booth leaned on the horn before he could consider what he was doing. "Hey!" She didn't turn . "Hey!" He cursed under his breath; two days and he hadn't been able to figure out her name. Suddenly, without thinking, he yelled out, "Hey, _Bones__**."**_

She hesitated, slowing, and then turned around just as he pulled up beside her, shooting her his most winning smile.

Booth could almost see the walls go up; she tensed instantly, eyes narrowed, bare, ungloved hands clenching into fists. "Did you just call me _Bones_?"

"Yeah," Booth admitted with a smile. "I needed to get your attention, and I don't know your name. It worked, right? You answered."

"What do you want?" she demanded suspiciously, her tone suggesting he'd cornered her in an alley with a weapon.

He ignored the hostility, however, and pressed on, not stopping to question his own motives as he offered, "I could give you a ride somewhere, if you want." Booth gave her a quick once over; Bones (as he now referred to her in his head) had on a jacket that, in spite of being at least two sizes too large for her, was far too thin for the below freezing weather. Her black Converse (not boots) were sunk into snow, probably getting soaked. She had a charcoal gray fleece cap on her head, slightly askew, and her cheeks were pink. "It's pretty cold out."

"I'm fine," she said churlishly; not at all as though he was offering to do her a favor. Something akin to annoyance flared in Booth's chest, suddenly, and he rolled his eyes, scowling.

"Forget it, then. I try to make a nice offer…you know what you're like? You're like Kenny. _Unappreciative_. It's below freezing out, if you didn't notice, and I thought I'd save you the walk."

For a long time, she simply stared at him, expression still defensive, but Booth could feel the power of her eye contact draining his anger.

Finally, without a word, she stepped off the sidewalk and got in the passenger side of Booth's car.

The surge of triumph that swept through Booth was disproportionate to what he'd just accomplished, but suddenly he was grinning in satisfaction as he put the car in drive.

His triumph was perhaps premature; next to him, Brennan was curled in on herself, huddled against the door, looking ready to fling the door open and run for it at a moment's notice.

"Do you ever relax?"

"Not when I'm in an uncomfortable situation," she retorted, not looking at him.

"_Uncomfortable_? Jesus," Booth muttered, taking his eyes off the road to glance at her."I offered you a ride. It's not an abduction attempt."

At that, Brennan turned and fixed him with a contemplative, deliberate look. "Why?"

"Why is not an abduction attempt?"

"Why did you offer me a ride? You don't even know my name."

Booth was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically thoughtful. Dozens of easy answers danced on his tongue: _It's freezing out, I'm a gentleman, you looked cold. _Instead, what he said was, "I guess I just…I've been wanting to talk to you."

He paused, but she didn't fill the silence with instant questions, like most girls would. She just continued to stare at him, piercing and intense, waiting.

"What you did the other day, with Kenny, that was…that was a really good thing you did for him. And I just…I want you to know, that _I _know, Joey was out of line."

"You were laughing," she told him matter-of-factly, no accusation in her voice; it was a simple statement of fact.

"Yeah, and I…I shouldn't have." Booth paused, hesitated. Then, with his eyes on the road, he admitted, "I…I've been thinking about it a lot, and I just want you to know…I wish I could have done the brave thing. Like you did."

For a moment, silence hung between them. As Booth eased up to a stop sign, he chanced a glance beside him; Bones was staring, and for the first time, her blue eyes had softened in his direction.

Swear to God, Booth felt his heart turn over in his chest.

"Thank you," she said finally.

Booth smiled clumsily at her as he eased the car forward again. "I just wish he'd been a bit more grateful," he muttered then.

"I don't care about that." Her tone was genuine, and dismissive. "Gratitude was not a motivational factor in my decision to intervene."

She talked like an essay, all formal syntax and complicated vocabulary. It threw Booth off, a little, and he wasn't used to that.

He remembered, though, the way the sophomores in the locker room had mentioned her being extremely smart; but they hadn't been nearly as interested in that as they had her alleged 'creepiness'.

This made him think, again, of Kenny, and the humiliated and hateful tone of his voice when he told her to butt out, calling her _Mortitia_, and suddenly Booth felt himself flush. "I'm sorry I don't know your name."

She gave him an odd look. "How could you? I never told you." Before he could respond, she added, "I don't know _your_ name."

"Really?" The question, conceited as it sounded, was out before Booth could stop it, and he winced instantly.

But Booth couldn't pretend to be unaware of his status at school. He was the golden boy, the popular senior, football and hockey star (depending on the season).

Brennan, though, merely shrugged. "No, how could I? Actually, minor correction, I know your last name is _Booth_, but that's only because it was on your hockey jersey yesterday. Anyway, that's how I've been mentally referring to you since then."

Immediately, Booth grinned, arching an eyebrow in her direction. "So. That means you've been thinking about me, huh?"

At the strange spluttering sound of protest , Booth glanced over; Brennan's face was flushed, and for the first time, _he_ seemed to have surprised _her_.

Proud of himself, Booth grinned. "Not such a philistine now, am I?"

Her gaze skirting away, Brennan murmured, "_I _never called you a philistine."

"Yeah, I know."

"I don't know you well enough to draw that conclusion."

Booth drove in silence for a moment, biting back a grin. Then, he offered simply, "Seeley."

"I don't know what that means."

"That's my _name_," he explained. "Seeley Booth." His face split into a smirk. "But just Booth is fine. I know you're used to it now."

He didn't have to glance over; he could feel her smiling.

"This is the part where you tell me _your_ name," Booth prompted teasingly after a moment. "Unless you want me to keep calling you Bones."

"Temperance Brennan," she answered softly, the way she'd tell a secret. "But I have no preference as to what you call me…" Her voice trailed off as the car slowed to a stop. "Where are we?"

"Huh?" Blinking, Booth looked outside and realized, belatedly, that he'd driven automatically to his own house. "Oh, uh…sorry. I didn't know where you live."

"You didn't ask!"

"And you didn't tell me!" He shot back, the barest hint of amusement in his voice. He'd been so preoccupied with the conversation, her very presence in his car, that he'd been driving on autopilot.

For a moment, Booth sat stagnant in the driveway, then, spontaneously, he turned off the engine. "You want to come in for a minute?"

Her suspicion back, Brennan regarded him dubiously. "Why?"

Booth was already out of the car, grinning down at her. "You gotta have a reason?"

Left with no choice, Brennan got out of the car, pulling her overloaded backpack over her shoulder as she followed Booth up the driveway of the unfamiliar house.

Brennan lingered several paces behind Booth as they went inside. She was utterly unfamiliar with this social situation; these days, when she entered strange homes, it was because she was moving in with a new foster family.

She couldn't remember the last time she visited the home of a _peer_. Brennan couldn't even really remember the last time she had a friend.

Not that Seeley Booth would qualify as such. She barely knew him, and frankly, his sudden interest made her a bit apprehensive. Brennan had observed enough about high school social status to get a sense of the hierarchy. Her position in the high school caste system was comparable to the Untouchables, so that even bullied Harlan Kenny looked down on her.

And from what she observed, Seeley Booth was about as far in the opposite direction as one could get.

Still, in spite of this, and in spite of the fact that some instinctual part of her was already worried about what Sean would do when she was arrived home so late, Brennan did not stand by the car and insist he take her home. She didn't turn around and start walking to the nearest bus stop.

Instead, she followed him inside the house and found herself being introduced to his grandfather.

"Hey, Pops!" Booth called as soon as they were inside. "I'm home." He dumped his backpack and duffel bag full of hockey equipment unceremoniously in the foyer.

"Good timing, shrimp, dinner's almost ready." An older man appeared in the doorway to the kitchen; he stopped when he saw her. "You didn't tell me you were brining company."

Booth grinned. "It was kind of an accident. Pops, this is Temperance Brennan. Bones, this is my grandfather."

As he grasped her hand, Booth's grandfather studied Brennan intently. Then, his face broke open into a smile. "You can call me Hank."

"Nice to meet you, Hank," Brennan repeated automatically.

"You'll stay for dinner." It wasn't a question, but Brennan's protest was instantaneous.

"Oh, I'm expected back home-"

"Call your parents and ask!" Hank said cheerfully, already returning to the kitchen. "Plenty of spaghetti for everyone, right, Seeley?"

Brennan turned, instinctually, to look at Booth. He just shrugged, unperturbed. "He's pretty persuasive, Pops." Noticing her hesitation, Booth softened his voice, "You should stay. Really."

The moment he'd said it, Booth realized how much he genuinely wanted her to hang around. He liked trying to fluster her; he liked trying to get her to look at him without defense or suspicion.

He liked her, period.

Slowly, the reservations drained from Brennan's eyes, and Booth knew he'd won. "There's a phone right in there, you can call home."

Booth disappeared after his grandfather, leaving Brennan standing in the living room, staring at the phone. She lifted the receiver, mentally sifting through excuses.

She tried, rationally, to tell herself that this wasn't worth the trouble of lying to Sean, of potentially angering him. She knew she should merely thank Booth and his grandfather for the offer, but she had to get home.

Still, Brennan began to dial.

~(B*B)~

The second Booth stepped into the kitchen, Pops was asking what kind of salad dressing his "friend" wanted, so Booth doubled back to ask.

He froze just outside the living room as Brennan's voice, on the phone, floated back to him. Her voice was small and quiet.

"Yes, sir, just a study session. Yes, I know. I know, I should have told-. No, sir. I-….No more than an hour or two. Yes, I know I'll still do the dishes. No, of course.. Yes, sir, straight home after. Thank you."

She hung up, turned and nearly collided with him.

"Sorry," Booth muttered, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping. "Were they…is it okay for you to stay?"

"It's fine," she answered, schooling her face into an impassive expression.

"Good," he offered her a smile and immediately changed the subject to salad dressing as they walked back to the kitchen.

Booth launched himself onto a stool at the bar, relaying Brennan's salad preferences to his grandfather.

Brennan, though, hovered awkwardly in the kitchen, feeling oddly bereft without her usual list of pre-dinner chores to get through. "Do you…need help with anything?"

Hank Booth smiled at her. "Don't worry about a thing. You just have a seat next to Seeley there."

Obediently, Brennan took the stool beside Booth's, and for the next five minutes, Hank asked her questions and kept her talking.

Brennan was in the midst of an explanation of how, exactly, she was taking college level calculus classes as a sophomore, to the amusement and fascination of both Booth men, when Jared Booth flopped into the kitchen, emerging from his room, and instantly froze.

"What the _hell_?" he blurted out without thinking, his eyes wide and fixed on Brennan.

Booth whirled, fixing his brother with a murderous look as Hank growled, "Jared Thomas Booth, _you will watch your language_."

Jared, though, continued to stare openmouthed at Brennan as though she was some sort of museum exhibit. Finally, he dragged his gaze to meet Booth's. "Seriously, Seeley, what is this? What's with Morticia?"

"_Shut up_, _Jared_," Booth snarled, menacing, his eyes flashing a clear warning just as Pops barked at him to remember his manners.

Brennan's face was flushed, yet she was staring directly at Jared, outwardly calm.

"Enough of that," Pops said firmly, dismissive. "Who's turn is it to set the table?"

The brothers answered at the same time.

"Seeley's."

"Mine."

Hank nodded once, then smiled at Brennan. "Temperance, you can go wash up…just down the hall there, last door on the left."

As Brennan disappeared, Booth instinctually turned toward his brother (who was, he had belatedly realized, in Brennan's year at school) to set some ground rules for this dinner, only to see Jared retreating down the hall after her, his stride quick and purposeful.

~(B*B)~

Brennan had just finished washing her hands when, turning to reach for a towel, she glimpsed Jared Booth leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching her.

She jumped slightly, taken aback by his presence. Recovering quickly, she merely said, "Hello."

"Hello," he parroted, tone clearly mocking. Jared was smirking at her, and he didn't move from the doorway.

Ignoring the sense of discomfort slowly crawling the length of her spine, Brennan shifted her weight slightly, waiting for him to move. When he merely stared at her, Brennan stated, "You're in my health class."

"Yeah, I know," Jared replied. "So why are you in my house?"

"Your brother invited me."

"Hmmm…" Jared grinned, seeming to consider this. "Well. I for one can't wait to see what the game is. Should be hilarious."

Irritated and slightly nervous, Brennan found herself glancing over Jared's shoulder, hoping Booth would appear. "I don't know what that means."

"Well, it's some kind of set up, that much is a given," Jared continued conversationally. "Could just be some sort of bet, you know? See if the big man on campus can convince even a supposed genius that he'd actually want to go out with her. Or maybe it's bigger than that…maybe he'll end up taking you to prom and they can, you know, dump the pig's blood or whatever? Like that _Carrie_ movie?" Jared laughed nastily. "Not that you'd mind much, I guess. Probably a fan of blood, aren't you?"

Brennan clenched her jaw, dragging her eyes away from Jared. She had no idea what movie Jared was going on about, but it hardly mattered. She understood his implication.

"Oh, come on," Jared continued after a moment. "You can't seriously think there's nothing behind this. What, did Seeley just start up a conversation out of the blue? Offer you a ride or something?" Jared laughed. "Convenient, right?"

Heat rising to her cheeks, Brennan ducked her head and shoved violently past Jared, barreling down the hallway, grabbing her backpack, and exiting the house with a complete disregard to the manners that were so emphasized in foster care.

~(B*B)~

Booth was just finishing setting the table when he heard a door slam somewhere in the house. Startled, he glanced down the hallway, calling, "Bones?"

Instead, his younger brother emerged, doing a poor job of concealing the grin on his face. Narrowing his eyes at Jared, Booth demanded, "Where's Bones?"

"Why do you keep calling her that? Everyone else just uses Mortitia." When the serious expression on Booth's face didn't change, Jared rolled his eyes, "She took off, I think."

Booth groaned. "What did you _say_?" he demanded, not sticking around for an answer as he headed toward the front door.

She was walking swiftly, already halfway down the street when Booth emerged from the house. He sprinted until he caught up, panting slightly. "Where are you going?"

"_Home," _Brennan gritted out, not looking at him, not slowing her pace.

"You were supposed to stay for dinner!" Booth blurted stupidly.

Instantly, Brennan whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Oh, save it. I'm not interested in whatever manipulation you're planning. I won't be the center of some ritualistic humiliation for jocks. I'm not Harlan Kenny."

Booth gaped at her. "_What_? Where is that coming from?" His eyes hardened. "Jared's an idiot, okay? He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Walking off again, Brennan shot back, "He certainly seems familiar enough with your typical behavior."

"Oh, come on, don't be like this, Bones-"

"_Don't_ call me Bones!"

Frustrated, desperate, Booth kept pace with her. "Look, just come back to the house, okay? Or at least let me give you a ride home and we can talk about this…" He reached out, instinctively, to grab her arm, trying to still her.

The second Booth touched her, though, panic swelled. Brennan jerked back, a startled sound rising from her throat, her entire body tensing as she stumbled away from him, eyes wide and fearful.

Instantly, Booth froze, and for a long moment they stood in the middle of the street, staring at each other. He recognized the automatic defensive movements, the instinctive assumption. He recognized the fear in Brennan's eyes

After all, it was a fear that had once been his own.

"Hey…" Booth held up his hands, softening his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you." Slowly, Brennan lifted her head and met his eyes. Tone heavy with significance, Booth added, "I wouldn't."

Brennan crossed her arms tightly, almost cradling herself. "Sorry," she muttered, though neither of them knew exactly what the apology was for. Glancing away, Brennan said quietly, "I need to get home."

His instinct was to argue, but somehow Booth understood that he wouldn't be able to change her mind at this point. "I'm sorry, about Jared," he told her earnestly. "Really, I…I don't claim relation, most of the time." Brennan glanced at him uncertainly, not smiling, and Booth added, "Maybe…you could stay another time. For dinner. I…I'd really like it."

When she stared at him then, it was as though he'd just presented a particularly difficult math problem, one she couldn't quite figure out.

"Can I at least give you a ride?" Booth offered quietly after the silence stretched on.

"No, I'll take the bus." Brennan hesitated, then added, "Thanks anyway." It was the closest thing to a reconciliation she had offered.

Booth stood on the edge of the road, then, watching her walk away, startled by the strength of his disappointment, but taking comfort in a newfound resolution.

Tomorrow at school, he would seek her out. Apologize again. He would make her trust him. Maybe make her smile. Laugh, even.

Funny how these things seemed so suddenly important.

_A/N: Well. Needless to say, that's pretty different from my usual fare. You may notice I used Sean Lowell...this was during 'Truth' hiatus, and I was hoping to get myself back into it. Anyway, this whole thing (including the next two parts) were written in a frenzy of experimentation following the mentioned discussion, so none of it is taking away from the upcoming chapter of Truth. In spite of myself...I'm curious as to what you thought, if you somehow made it through._


	2. Skinny Love

_A/N:__ Hey guys! First of all, major apologies for the delay on this. I honestly wasn't expecting such a great response, and once I saw how many of you enjoyed the first chapter, I really wanted to rework the rest of it, since it was all done in a hurry with no intention of posting. But I'm so glad you all read and enjoyed this little AU experiment, and hopefully this part (which is much longer than it originally was, so maybe that makes up for things a bit) doesn't disappoint. Love to hear what you think!_

Part Two

_I tell my love to wreck it all_  
><em>Cut out all the ropes and let me fall<em>  
><em>My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my<em>  
><em>Right in the moment this order's tall<em>

_I told you to be patient_  
><em>I told you to be fine<em>  
><em>I told you to be balanced<em>  
><em>I told you to be kind<em>

It was official; Seeley Booth was definitely being a bit creepy.

He'd been hovering in the corner of the gym for nearly ten minutes, merely loitering, eyes roving the group of sophomore girls in class that period.

Hence the creepiness.

He was, technically speaking, only supposed to spend his study hall in the library or a classroom (with teacher permission). But Booth merely had to enter the gym and wave at Coach Flacks, who was on the other side of the gym instructing a group of sophomore boys, and his presence was easily tolerated.

Still, he was hardly inconspicuous. Most of the sophomore girls had noticed him immediately, and were casting frequently, giggly glances in his direction, not paying any attention to Ms. McGinnis, who was trying to review the basic points of some sport or another in the center of the gym.

Of course, the reason for his lingering presence in the gym was barely paying him any attention. Brennan had noticed him when she first came in from the locker room, and had merely given him an odd, perplexed look before fully turning her attention to the gym teacher.

Booth shifted slightly, glancing at his watch, hoping to convey the impression of waiting to talk to his coach rather than eyeing underclassmen girls.

Still, he was having difficulty keeping his gaze from snapping to Brennan, much as she was ignoring him. She was sitting cross legged on the floor, the look on her face suggesting rapt attention, though Booth had a suspicion gym wasn't her most stimulating subject.

She was, Booth couldn't help but noticed, inappropriately dressed for the hot, poorly ventilated gymnasium. While most of the girls changed into the shortest shorts they could get away with before gym, Brennan was wearing black sweatpants and a gray hoodie.

It made Booth's stomach fold sickeningly, memories crowding him: going to the most informal baseball practices in long sleeves, miserably sweating it out rather than reveal evidence of his dad's latest rage.

A grimace creased Booth's expression; he'd been hoping he was wrong last night, that he'd misread Brennan's reaction to him grabbing her arm, jumping to a conclusion due to his own background and some sort of foster system prejudice. But this, too, was all too familiar.

Eventually, Booth put these thoughts temporarily away as his patience was rewarded. Ms. McGinnis dismissed her lecture and tossed out a basketball. As usual, gym was a bit of a free for all, even when it came for organized sports, and the female gym teacher disappeared through the double doors while leaving the girls to it.

Unsurprisingly, Brennan drifted away from the action, regarding the basketball with an expression of such open distaste that Booth nearly laughed. As she neared the sidelines, he straightened, eager. "Hey, Bones!"

Everyone on the court turned to look at him, confused by the words, but Booth merely caught Brennan's eye and beckoned her over. She hesitated, but finally approached, and a hushed murmur swept through the crowd as she did.

"You aren't supposed to be in here," she informed him gravely, oblivious to the curious stares watching _Seeley Booth_ talk to _her_.

Booth flashed a winning smile. "Coach doesn't mind." He nodded at Coach Flacks, still across the gym, observing the boys in their own basketball game.

For some reason, this prompted an eye roll from Brennan. She crossed her arms, obviously in full defense mode. "What do you want?"

"Just…to make sure we're okay. And apologize again, for last night." Brennan blinked at him, unimpressed. Determined not to be discouraged, Booth added, "And also, to see if you wanted to hang out after school. I don't have hockey practice, for once, so I thought…" He trailed off, disconcerted by the intense, searching look on her face.

"Are you trying to procure a tutor or something?" Brennan demanded.

Booth frowned, offended. "What? No! My grades are…well, they're alright. I don't want you to _tutor_ me, for God's sake."

"Then what?"

Booth sighed wearily. "Look, you…you don't believe all that crap Jared was saying, do you?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied honestly. "But he did raise a good point. Why are you so interested in socializing with me? You don't know me. And from what I've observed," she nodded at the crowd in the gym, all failing spectacularly at feigning disinterest. "…this is a particularly strange anomaly."

Booth flushed slightly, shooting a look of undisguised annoyance over his shoulder at their audience. Turning back to Brennan, he shrugged a little helplessly. "I don't…I don't have some big ulterior motive. I swear. I just…" He smiled a little, almost embarrassed. "I just like you."

This explanation apparently failed to abate Brennan's suspicions. "But how? You don't really know me. And besides…" Her voice trailed off, but Booth noticed her casting a dark look at her peers, possibly thinking of the way they all treated her on a daily basis.

This thought made Booth's chest swell with indignation, but he ignored it, holding his smile. "I know I don't. But I like talking to you. I like….I like trying to make you look at me like you don't think I'm a criminal or an idiot." He grinned. "It doesn't happen very often, but it feels pretty good when it does."

The corner of her mouth twitched, and Brennan's eyes dropped to the ground, possibly to hide the smile sneaking its way into her eyes. When she looked up again, she offered quietly, "I don't think you're an idiot."

Booth's smile widened, and he said teasingly, "Or a criminal?"

Straight-faced, Brennan shrugged. "I suppose I'm still accessing that. Criminal tendencies aren't always immediately obvious."

He laughed out loud at that one, and Brennan couldn't keep the pleasure from her face.

At her easy, open smile, Booth's laughter faded, his eyes softening. "_There_ it is," he said softly.

Immediately, Brennan felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she found it suddenly difficult to hold his eyes.

Booth stuck his hand out then. "So, what do you say, Bones?" he teased, eyes dancing. "Friends?"

With great formality, Brennan slid her hand into his and shook. "Friends."

~(B*B)~

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Booth replied lazily. He was stretched on his back in the middle of the football field, his coat zipped nearly to his chin. His eyes were closed, and now his lips pulled into an amused smile, anticipating; Brennan was hopeless at truths.

She was stretched on her stomach beside him, a blanket draped over her back, and she was quiet for a moment, considering, before asking seriously, "What's your favorite subject in school?"

Booth barely suppressed a laugh. Brennan was new to the game; in fact, they'd started playing it the past few nights only because of her passing comment that she'd never done so before. Booth had expressed an inappropriate amount of shock and insisted he initiate her.

Still, she didn't seem to grasp the concept, treating the 'Truths' as benign, 'get to know you' opportunities, rather than an excuse to embarrass.

"Lunch," Booth replied flatly, earning him a swat on the stomach.

"That's _not_ a subject."

"It's on my class schedule," he informed her smugly.

"Yes, but it's not actually a _class_."

"Fine, fine. Um…gym. That's a class."

Next to him, Brennan sighed, but it was affectionate, like she knew he was teasing her, and didn't mind.

Booth smiled.

It had been nearly a month since their tentative truce in Brennan's gym class, and they were truly, properly friends now. Best friends, really, a novelty for both of them. It had been years since Brennan had a proper friend, and Booth's usual crowd of teammates and admirers had always felt more like a necessary social arrangement than anything deeper.

With Brennan, though, it was different. They'd started spending all their free time together, at lunch and between classes at school as well as evenings and nights when Booth wasn't practicing hockey.

It was difficult to arrange their meetings, mainly because of Brennan's foster parents. She never elaborated, but Booth got the idea they didn't freely grant permission for her to leave the house.

On the rare occasion he didn't have practice immediately after school, it was easier. He could hear Brennan, sometimes, on the pay phones at school, claiming study sessions or time in the library, and this seemed to leave her free to go with Booth, wandering around shops downtown, going for milkshakes or fries at a nearby diner, or sometimes just driving aimlessly in his car until they felt like stopping somewhere.

Nights, though, were harder, though they developed a system. Booth would drive by her house once it was dark, when he'd finished his dinner and homework, and slow to a stop, flashing his lights, eyes on her bedroom window.

If she answered by the flicking the lights on and off, he would drive around the block and park, waiting for Brennan to join him moments later, once she'd snuck out.

He never asked what it meant, exactly, when his signal went unanswered, but Booth couldn't help assuming the worst. Every time it happened, he found himself driving away, sick to his stomach, fighting the urge to charge into the house and find out what, exactly, was going on. Sometimes, he'd return several hours later and try again, often to a different result.

Brennan had never once thought of defying Sean Lowell until she met Booth. She'd always been far too afraid of him to even consider it. But once she and Booth devised their system, a new kind of logic began to rule her.

Sean was going to hurt her, no matter what she did.

And having Seeley Booth to look forward to was worth risking a little extra.

Still, she was careful. She snuck out to meet him only when Sean was passed out for the night, or if he had already been in and out of her bedroom.

The football field had become a frequent hang out. Brennan was adamant about Booth never so much as approaching her bedroom window in her house, and she had refused any offer to return to his own home; not that he blamed her, considering her last encounter with Jared there.

So, since it was usually too late for most places to be open, they stayed outside, braving the cold in coats and blankets. Booth didn't mind; he started bringing thermoses of hot chocolate for both of them, and sometimes, by the end of the night, they would crowd together under the same blanket while Brennan explained the science behind 'body heat', and he certainly enjoyed every aspect of _that_.

"Truth or dare," he recited now, opening his eyes to look up at Brennan, her elbows propped against the astro turf, chin resting on her palm.

"Dare," she replied instantly, unsurprisingly. In spite of her own harmless approach to 'truths', she consistently denied Booth the opportunity to pry.

He was quiet for a long moment, considering, looking up at her.

_Kiss me_. The thought floated into his head, unbidden, and Booth's face reddened.

It was a thought that had been plaguing him more and more frequently around her, and now, gazing up at her profile, illuminated against the moon and stars freckling the night sky…it was hard to resist.

Still, Booth managed to ignore that desire, impatiently, as he always did. He wasn't ready to examine it.

"Aw, Bones… " Booth made a face. "You always pick dare."

She merely shrugged. "You never mentioned a rule against that."

"Must've forgot to tell you," Booth told her, lying flat again to hide his smile. "You can't do more than…" He paused, mentally backtracking through their game of the evening. "Four 'dares' in a row. Or truths."

"Oh," Brennan frowned, believing this statement so easily that Booth felt the slightest twinge of guilt. "Then, truth, I suppose."

"Hmmm," Booth muttered noncommittally. In truth, he didn't have to consider it; he knew what he wanted to ask, had been hoping to slip it in since they started this game.

Suddenly his throat tightened with nerves and guilt; he felt awkward, suddenly, bringing it up after essentially tricking her into allowing it, even though Booth was fairly sure Brennan wouldn't recognize the manipulation.

"Booth?" Brennan prompted after awhile.

"Right, right…" He looked up at her, their eyes locking, Booth's expression suddenly somber. Compromising, he swallowed his question about her foster father, about what she was hiding behind the constant long sleeves, about what went on the nights she didn't respond to their signal.

Instead, Booth asked quietly, "How come you ended up in the system?"

Brennan's face darkened immediately, and she drew back, suspicion settling in her eyes.

Before she could refuse, or yell at him, or whatever else was coming, Booth added in a low voice, "If you do, I'll tell you why I live with my grandfather and no parents."

This stopped her, draining the defensiveness from her eyes. Still, Booth felt his chest tighten, anxiety flaring.

His wasn't a story that Booth shared. Ever. It didn't fit the image most people had of him: the Golden Boy, the charmed life.

But Brennan didn't see him that way, and to Booth's surprise he found he loved that about her. She had never cared about his status at school…if anything, that had only made her more weary of him.

Even after his offer, Brennan was quiet for a long time, hesitating. Finally, she replied in a barely audible tone, "You first?"

Booth made himself smile lightly. "_You_ first, I would think. It _is _your turn."

She was no longer looking at him, but squinting fixedly up into the empty stands. Eventually, though, Brennan nodded and began in a slow, tense voice, "Last year…just before Christmas…my parents they went out for a dinner party, with…with some friend and they just…they never came back."

Booth stared up at her, his face paling. Somehow, he hadn't expected it to be so recent.

"Did they just…?" His words tangled, uncertain of how to ask for clarification.

"Something…something must've happened, they wouldn't have just…" Brennan's voice faltered, and she closed her eyes. "Anyway, the police found our car and there was bl-blood but…they didn't find anything else."

Brennan's face twisted, the rawness of the loss suddenly clear, and it was all Booth could do not to look away. But his gaze held hers, steady and strong, even as words of comfort or sympathy completely failed him.

Finally, Brennan spoke again, soft and rushed, "My older brother he…he left about a month later? We didn't have any other family, so I guess he called a social worker because one showed up at our house and told me I had to pack…"

"Your brother just _left_?" Booth blurted, unable to keep the shock from his voice. He was thinking about Jared, the way he always used to keep the brunt of his father's anger off his younger brother. He couldn't imagine a scenario where he could leave Jared behind.

Brennan flushed, glancing away. Somehow, this piece of information seemed to reflect badly on her. She was too difficult, too strange, too quiet, too _something_ for Russ to handle. The fact that she was his sister, the only family he had left, wasn't enough to make him stay.

"Sorry," Booth mumbled, suddenly awkward. After a moment, he let his hand come to rest on her leg, making Brennan look up at him. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Shrugging a little, Brennan schooled her face into an impassive expression. "Anyway…that answers your question."

When silence hovered, Brennan fixed with an intent gaze. "Your turn."

There was the barest hint of uncertainty and suspicion in her tone, as if he'd coerced a truth from her with no real intention of offering his own.

For a quick, selfish moment, Booth was tempted to back out, withdraw his own confession. He'd spent years keeping his history locked away, not letting it touch him. He'd never wanted to be a tragic figure, never wanted to show his damage.

Then he looked at Brennan, realizing that she was never given any choice in the matter. Dropped into school in the middle of the semester, always improperly clothed for the climate, murmuring her name for free lunch in the cafeteria line every day…the Foster Kid label had been inescapable.

But now she had told him why. The trust between them was still tentative, but she'd taken another step, and Booth wasn't about to destroy that. So he began to speak.

"Right…" Slowly, he sat up, his face set, arranging his words carefully. "My dad…drank." It was the first revelation, the first crack in his image; Booth fell instantly silent, momentarily surprised when the sky did not crack open, the world did not cave in.

Instead, Brennan simply watched him, blue eyes wide and serious and accepting.

"He drank…a lot," Booth clarified. "He would get pretty bad and…he'd go after my mom. When I was a little kid, like real little, I even thought that was just…_normal_. The way everyone's family was."

He stopped again, voice halting. Brennan didn't push him; she simply held his gaze, no trace of shock in her expression.

"My mom left when I was seven. Couldn't take it anymore, I guess and…he got even worse. 'Cept now he was going after me. He just…he needed a target, and for awhile it was _all the time_. Sometimes Jared, but mostly…mostly I was able to keep him out of the way."

For the first time, his words visibly affected Brennan, but there was still no shock. Instead, her eyes, that depthless blue that first captured him, softened with such tenderness that Booth's throat narrowed unexpectedly, his heart seizing up.

Swallowing hard, Booth swept a hand absently through his hair. "Anyway…it went on pretty regular for a few years."

That was the quick, relatively painless version, the one that left out the moments he'd stood on the side of the road, nine years old, idly thinking that it'd be easier, sometimes, to step off the curb in front of the coming school bus. It left out childhood contemplations on whether suicide's promised Hell could really be better than his daily one.

It didn't matter that he didn't spell out the details, didn't quite have the words. Somehow, Booth knew, Brennan understood it. He recognized something in her, maybe had from that first day on the stairwell. That hopeless desperation, that brokenness that had owned him as a kid…her eyes were full of it.

Booth thought maybe he saw a spark of recognition in Brennan's face, too, some sort of mutual understanding passing between their gazes, and Brennan unconsciously pulled the blanket a little tighter around her body.

"He left, too, though, when I was eleven. Which was…a good thing, really, since we went to live with Pops, and Pops isn't anything like Dad. He takes care of us, you know?"

Brennan watched him, taking in the way something lit Booth's eyes when he spoke about his grandfather, the gratitude and love he felt for Pops palpable.

Booth felt his cheeks flood with heat, as he realized she didn't, actually, know what it was like to be taken care of, not right now anyway. Giving a small, almost apologetic smile, Booth added quietly, "I guess I was lucky."

"Not _that_ lucky," Brennan stated matter-of-factly. Softening her voice, she told him solemnly, "You deserved a better father."

"Thanks, Bones," he told her with a smile. "You deserved to keep yours."

She smiled back. After a moment, Brennan rolled onto her back, so they were lying parallel, gazing up at the stars. Between them, on a blanket covering the Astroturf, Booth fumbled around for her hand, then tentatively weaved his fingers with hers.

~(B*B)~

Her trust of him, always tentative, was strengthening. School, though, made it difficult.

Jared, it transpired, had only been the first in a long line of people questioning Booth's motives for hanging out with her.

In spite of Booth's status at school, her own had not been elevated by association, as logic might dictate. Instead, resentment had proved a powerful force in her fellow sophomore girls, and she found herself even more despised than before.

"What does Seeley Booth see in…_that_?"

This conversation, conducted by four girls gathered around the lab table behind Brennan's, had obviously been held until her arrival. Brennan opened her chemistry book, feigning obliviousness.

"Well, it's obvious, right?" Another voice, Shana Lynch's (the queen of the sophomores, the one who once suggested Brennan had probably killed her parents due to her preference for dead things), put in with great authority.

There were murmurs, then, as the others girls leaned forward, waiting to hear Shana's explanation.

"Well, _Jared_ says Seeley only sneaks out to meet her in the middle of the night. And for _her_ to get someone like _him_ to hang around? She must be, like, up for _anything_."

Brennan frowned down at her book, paying attention in spite of herself. She wasn't sure what was being insinuated.

Judging by the murmurs of assent and understanding, though, the other girls seemed to understand.

"_Slut_." Someone's poisonous whisper floated by Brennan, and clarity dawned.

She rolled her eyes, briefly considering spinning around to correct them before deciding not to bother. If they thought she was having intercourse with Seeley Booth, it made no difference to her.

"But Jared still thinks there's something else going on," Shana continued wisely. "Something the hockey team's come up with."

"Ooh, I _hope_ so."

"The fact that she's _easy_ probably just makes the set up more fun for him."

"Definitely," Shane agreed with a smirk. "And it's not like it's surprising that she puts out, right? What else do they have to _do_ in foster homes."

The teacher entered the classroom then, and the girls scattered to their own desks. Brennan sat stiffly in her chair, feeling vaguely nauseous.

She didn't want it to bother her, the constant speculation that her friendship with Booth was all part of some scheme, a trick to humiliate and hurt her.

Based on her experience with Booth over the past several weeks, Brennan did not believe he was capable of that. Yet she was perfectly aware of her own shortcomings, and reading people was a major one.

~(B*B)~

Booth knew what they were saying.

It was weird, him hanging out with Brennan. He had a certain amount of pride over the fact that he'd never once hesitated to hang out with Brennan at school (of course, that pride had instantly been replaced by shame for even thinking it), but it did invite confusion and speculation, especially from his teammates.

"So what's the secret, Seeley?" Joey Dahl asked in the locker room, early in Booth and Brennan's friendship.

"The secret?" Booth asked casually, his eyes on the skates he was sharpening.

"You know…" Joey exchanged smirks with the other guys. "The big secret with you and the foster kid."

"She's got a name, Joey," Booth said, but his tone was light. He felt tense and uncomfortable, already aware he wasn't going to like this conversation.

"Oh, right sorry…Mortitia, is it?"

There were laughs, and Booth swallowed his instinctual protests, pretending to dig around in his duffel bag for something instead.

"So, seriously man…what is it?"

"Still not sure what you're asking, Joe."

Tommy Lydon added, "Yeah, isn't it like…totally creepy."

"Hey, hey…" Joey was grinning. "Give the man a break. I'm sure he knows what he's doing. And, hey…" He slapped Booth on the back. "I heard some of those foster kids get started _early_ know what I mean? So they know what they're doing-"

More smirks were exchanged. "So…what's she up for?"

Booth was quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting around at his teammates, guys who had decided there was only one thing that would keep him hanging around Temperance Brennan, and that it must be pretty damn good.

With an easy grin, Booth arched an eyebrow and said, "You guys should know by now I'm a gentleman. It's none of your business."

There were groans and catcalls, and Booth immediately stood up, throwing his equipment over his shoulder and heading out of the locker room to the rink, a hard knot of guilt forming in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn't said anything, but he knew what he was implying, what he was letting them assume.

Closing his eyes, he tried to reassure himself that it didn't hurt anyone.

~(B*B)~

Booth picked Brennan up for school now, most days. They met a block from her house; Brennan never explained why she was so careful about her foster father, and Booth wasn't yet ready to ask her pointblank.

It was the day of Booth's biology test. It was his most difficult class, and he needed to ace the test to keep his grades decent.

Brennan had been helping him study all week; she wasn't the best teacher – her brain worked too fast, it all came too easily to her – but she knew _everything_, so the moment a bit of the study guide stumped him, she was there to remind him of the answer.

They were walking down the hallway together while Brennan, from Booth's perspective, anyway, essentially recited a chapter from his textbook at Booth, a last minute cram session.

He stopped at his locker, watching Brennan fondly as she rattled on about genomes. "Easy, Bones," he cut her off gently. "Don't want my brain exploding before the test."

Brennan frowned, leaning on the locker beside his and giving him a look. "That's physically impossible."

Laughing, Booth twirled his locker combination. "Good to know."

The locker door swung open, and a waterfall of condoms spilled out onto the floor.

Booth jumped back slightly startled, and only after a moment did he become aware of the crowd watching them, now clapping and whooping.

Turning, Booth saw a knot of his friends across the corridor, snickering.

Joey Dahl met his eyes and grinned. "Thought you could probably use a new supply."

Brock Gaston glanced at Brennan and added, "Maybe you wanna double up…just in case."

Before he could stop himself, Booth's instincts, the instincts that developed in the popular crowd, kicked in.

He smiled.

In the next second, he glanced at Brennan, chest constricting at the panicked confusion on her face.

Brennan didn't understand what was happening. She didn't know why there were condoms in Booth's locker, or why that hockey player thought Booth needed a new supply, or why Booth had smiled.

But the laughing crowd, the way Booth's teammates had obviously gathered to watch, the spectacle of it all…it felt like a set-up, like the punch line of a joke the rest of the school had been waiting for.

"Booth?" she asked in a small, uncertain voice, lifting her eyes to his.

Turning his back on the others, Booth grabbed the books and he needed and hastily slammed his locker, leaving half the condom packets littering the floor. "C'mon," he muttered, putting his hand on the small of Brennan's back, guiding her away from the stares and jeers of the crowd.

Booth didn't slow down until they reached the exit by the band room and pushed through the door.

Outside, Booth felt shaky and sick. Anger would come; he could feel it clawing distantly at his gut already, but somehow Booth knew he wouldn't act on it. He would let Joey and Tommy and Brock and the rest of them think he was amused; it was what they expected.

"What…what were they doing?"

"I don't know," Booth mumbled, somehow unable to look at her.

"But…did you plan…?"

"_No_," he told her vehemently. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

Something loosened in Brennan's chest, and she smiled at him in relief. It faded quickly, however, as she added confusedly, "I don't understand. Why would they think you needed so many condoms? And why was everyone laughing about it?"

"I…I don't know, Bones, those guys are…they're not that smart."

"But you smiled," she reminded him with a frown. "You smiled like you understood the joke."

A warning bell rang, and Booth glanced toward the school. For once, though, academia seemed far from Brennan's mind. She was staring fixedly at him, waiting for an answer.

"Just…all those condoms." Booth flushed slightly, but kept going. "Immature, but…they think they're funny."

"But why did they-"

"They think we're having a lot of sex, Bones," Booth blurted out.

"Oh." Brennan seemed surprisingly unbothered by this revelation. "I know that."

"You do?"

"Yes, I've heard people say things," she stated flatly.

For a moment, they shifted their weight awkwardly, avoiding each other's eyes.

"Did you…did you tell them that we were?" Brennan asked finally.

"No."

"Did you tell them we aren't?"

"No."

Brennan was staring intently at Booth, but he wouldn't look at her anymore, staring instead at the ground.

"What…what _do_ you tell them?" Brennan asked finally, somewhat disconcerted.

She'd never considered it before, but logic dictated if all of _her_ classmates were shocked by Booth hanging out with her, his own friends must be even more shocked.

Running a hand through his hair, Booth squinted toward the building, glanced at his watch, and shifted his books in his hand.

Finally, he answered, "Nothing really."

Hurt flickered across Brennan's expression for the briefest second. Then, her face hardened, eyes narrowing. "Are you embarrassed?"

"What?" Booth looked her now, eyes widening. "Of course not."

Another warning bell rang, the final one.

"You have a biology test," Brennan murmured.

Booth, though, didn't want to leave without saying something better, something to fix this.

"Hey…" He touched Brennan's arm, and reluctantly she looked up. "I don't tell them about you…because they're not my real friends. They never have been…they…they're not like you."

"Is that it?"

His voice quieter, Booth added, "And also…also I don't want to give them a reason to say anything about you. To go after you or…I don't know." That was the truth, though there was more he wasn't saying, more selfish reasons about what they might say to _him_. "I'm sorry."

She nodded once, a small, conciliatory smile curling her lips. "It's okay." She touched his arm, squeezing gently. "Go. Good luck on the test."

"Thanks, Bones."

~(B*B)~

Hank Booth had been working for the last seven years to make sure his grandsons were happy, happier than they'd been before he took them in.

For the most part, he knew he'd succeeded. They'd adjusted well; they played sports, had friends, didn't worry more than kids needed to.

But Hank Booth knew his grandsons well, and he knew that Seeley's happiness over the past month was a completely different sort.

Hank had only met the girl once, briefly, but ever since the day Seeley brought her home, he'd been different. Careless and distracted, the boy barely talked about hockey practices anymore; he came home late after school, always smiling, and worked like a maniac to finish chores and homework, staring at the clock, waiting for the moment when he could go out again. He not only left on time for school in the morning, but usually twenty or so minutes early.

It was about a month after his first and only encounter with Temperance Brennan, the girl his grandson called 'Bones', that Hank saw her again.

Booth came bounding home immediately after school, a rarity these days. He had a home hockey game that night, against their biggest rivals, an event that usually brought out a huge crowd.

"Hey, Pops," Booth said, dropping his bookbag on the couch. "You're coming to the game tonight?"

"Give me a break, shrimp," Hank told him shrewdly. "Do I ever miss a game?"

"Well, listen, Bones is coming tonight," he told him, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Can she maybe sit with you, and you can kind of explain to her how it works?"

"Happy to," Hank agreed easily. "Sure she won't mind spending the game with an old man like me? I know how your brother is at those games?"

Booth's face darkened slightly, "Yeah, Bones isn't really…they give her a hard time at school, sometimes."

"Mmmm," Hanks' expression was noncommittal; he'd suspected that much, to an extent, after Jared's reaction when Brennan was there. "Even your friends?"

"Yeah, even them," Booth spat bitterly. Sighing, he shook his head slightly. "I just…I finally got her to agree to come to one of these, and she finally got permission to come, and I just…I don't want anyone messing with her."

Hank was quiet for awhile, studying his grandson. The level of concern and caring in Booth's face was deep and intense, so much so that it took even Hank by surprise.

~(B*B)~

Brennan was already rethinking this decision. She was hovering just inside the entrance to the rink, to the side of the stands, shrinking against a wall and trying not to meet anyone's eye.

Sean was working late tonight, the only reason she'd been able to risk coming. He'd be angry when he got home to find her out, but Booth had been so excited when she'd agreed that Brennan had decided it was worth the risk.

Now, though, she was resisting the urge to bolt. It seemed like the entire school was here, crowding into the student section of the stands, and though Booth was, technically, here, she wasn't allowed to hang out with him.

A group of girls from her health class walked by suddenly, cutting their eyes at Brennan; one whispered something that caused the others to giggle.

Brennan pushed herself off the wall, half turning toward the exit, when a voice behind her said, "Temperance?"

In the next second, she was face to face with Booth's grandfather, smiling kindly.

"Oh, hello."

"Good to see you again," Hank said. "Seeley mentioned you were coming…he was very excited about it."

Brennan smiled then, her eyes shining. "I…I'm excited to see him play. But I told him I'm not very familiar with hockey."

"Would you like to sit with me?" Hank asked, nodding toward the stands. "Smart girl like you, I can teach you everything you need to know by the end of the first quarter."

Brennan hesitated, looking around to see if Jared would be joining them.

"I'm on my own tonight," Hank added after a moment, correctly guessing her hesitation. "Jared's off with his friends."

Relaxing, Brennan nodded, smiling in gratitude. "Thank you."

~(B*B)~

As Booth skated onto the ice with the rest of the team and immediately looked up at the stands. He found his grandfather sitting in his usual place, and was glad to see Brennan sitting beside him. Booth could see Pops pointing him out, and he gave a quick, hopefully subtle, wave in their direction, smiling to himself as he skated off.

Booth knew Brennan wasn't like the rest of the school; she didn't like him because he was good at hockey, didn't even care. But he wanted to play well for her tonight, to impress her even though it wasn't something she cared about, in the same way he loved listening to her rattle off facts like she'd swallowed a textbook.

It was a close, rough game, the way it always was against their rival school. Booth ended up in the penalty box twice, but he scored two of the four goals, including the goal that earned them their 4-3 victory.

After every goal, or every particularly good play, Booth found himself looking up at the crowd, searching for her. Each time, Brennan was standing with the rest of the crowd, clapping for him, and Booth couldn't stop grinning.

As soon as their coach let them go at the end of the game, Booth was pushing through the crowd of celebrating students. He'd lost sight of Brennan in the mass exodus from the stands, and he was hoping she hadn't gone.

"Hey, man, victory party at my place!" Joey called at him.

"Yeah, maybe," Booth muttered dismissively, already leaving the rest of the team behind.

He ran into Hank toward the exit. "Great game, shrimp!"

"Thanks, Pops," Booth replied, pausing long enough to conduct their handshake. "Where's Bones?"

Pops' smile was a little too knowing, and he nodded toward the rink's exit. "Go ahead."

Booth ran outside, and spotted Brennan walking across the parking lot. He cupped his hands around his mouth, "Bones!"

She stopped and turned, spotting Booth, already running towards her, his movements slightly comical since he was still wearing all his hockey gear.

He was panting when he caught her, but he smiled. "You came."

Brennan smiled, too, looking surprised but pleased that he'd caught up to her. "I promised I would."

"What'd you think?"

Pursing her lips, expression contemplative, Brennan assessed, "Well, it's rougher than I expected. Very primal instincts in use. I'm not sure how I feel about that aspect…it seems that the sport aspect is society's way of sanctioning violence, but…" She smiled then, lifting her eyes to his. "You were very proficient. The victory wouldn't have been possible without your contributions."

Booth was smiling broadly now, his eyes bright with affection. "Well, thanks, Bones. I'm really glad you came." He paused. "So how come you're sneaking off?"

Brennan gestured toward the high school's rink. "It seemed like everyone wanted to celebrate. I heard some other students talking about a victory party and I figured, with you being the reason for the victory, you'd need to be there."

"No way, I'm blowing that off." Remembering their conversation before his biology test last week, Booth added, "Unless _you_ want to go with me?"

But Brennan was already shaking her head, looking panicked at the very suggestion. "You can go, though, Booth, I know those things are important."

"They're really not," he countered, smiling softly. "And, hey, I just want to hang out with you." He glanced down at himself, then. "If you don't mind waiting for me to change first."

"Of course."

"Alright…my car's parked right..." Booth pointed, then handed her the keys. "Wanna wait for me there?"

"Sure," Brennan told him, smiling. She didn't care how late it was, how much trouble she might be in when she got back to the house. Booth had come after her, he'd picked her over a party, and for the moment, she could let herself simply appreciate that.

~(B*B)~

Then came the posters.

They were everywhere, overnight. Red and green poster board, lots of exclamation points, covering the high school. By the end of first period, everyone who'd entered the building knew about the winter formal dance.

Immediately, Booth had a dilemma.

The easiest thing would be to skip the dance, to take Brennan somewhere on their own where he'd enjoy himself more anyway. He'd been doing that a lot lately; skipping parties or other events to hang out with Brennan.

It wasn't simply that he preferred her company to anyone else's, though he did. Ever since that day on the stairwell, when she'd marched into his life and stood up for Arthur Kenny, Booth had found himself with more and more distaste for the way Joey and Tommy and the rest of his old crowd acted.

But the winter formal was the second biggest event of the year, next to prom. Booth had never missed it, and it was his senior year. Plus, it was the weekend before the first game of the state play-offs for hockey, so the hockey team would be expected to show up and be revered.

But for years, they'd had a tradition. They went as a group, dinner, dance, the whole thing. They all brought dates.

And the only person Booth wanted to bring was Brennan.

But he didn't know how that would go over with the guys. Booth told himself he was protecting her, saving Brennan from such forced proximity, and the comments and hostility that would surely come along with it.

And that was true…but it was also true that Booth wasn't quite ready to subject himself to that kind of evening either.

For the whole week, he mentally wrestled with himself, and neither her or Bones brought up the dance.

Booth tried to convince himself she wouldn't want to go, anyway. He could see the struggle it took to get her to a hockey game, even when she could withdraw from the student crowd and sit with Hank.

He'd made no decisions on the dance, one way or the other, the day Patrick Towne came up to him after Biology.

Patrick was another starter on the hockey team and, like Booth, he also played football. He was one of Booth's better friends on the team, and was one of the few who hadn't managed to piss Booth off since he started hanging out with Brennan.

"Hey, Seel." Patrick fell into step with him as they walked out of their classroom. "You hear the plan for next weekend? Joey got a reservation at The Tavern. They don't usually take big groups, but his dad made a call or something."

"Yeah? He hadn't told me." Booth kept his tone neutral, but the topic had already set him on edge.

"Listen…" Patrick hesitated, and it was clear to his tone that this wasn't just an idle chat. "Who are you planning on bringing?"

In contrast, Booth kept his voice carefully casual. "Hadn't really thought about it…I actually haven't even bought tickets yet."

"Well, Brooke thinks she's going with you."

"Oh," Booth grimaced.

Brooke Jessup was the head cheerleader, the homecoming queen, the most popular of their class. In short, she was, status wise, anyway, Booth's female equivalent.

It wasn't surprising that she'd assumed they would go together. Both of them had, thus far, rejected long term relationships, preferring to date around their crowd simply because they had to ability to. But when it came to events like these, they usually ended up going together. To everyone else, it just made sense.

"Like I said," Booth added with a shrug. "I haven't thought about it."

Patrick came to a stop, suddenly, shuffling to the side of the hallway and meeting Booth's eyes. "You have, though, haven't you? You've thought about bringing what's-her-name. Temperance."

Booth set his jaw, already defensive. "I was going to maybe talk to her about, yeah."

"Well, I don't think that's such a good idea."

Booth said nothing, not wanting to admit he'd been thinking the same thing.

"Look, I'm not trying to judge man. But you should know…Joey's been pissed ever since she threatened to destroy his balls. Especially since you apparently went out and started sleeping with her. Or _hanging_ _out_, or whatever you're doing. They won't go easy on her, believe me. You know the stuff they say to your face…it's even worse when you're not around."

"Like what?" Booth demanded, aggressively.

"Doesn't matter," Patrick said firmly. "Just trust me on that…they'd eat her alive. And besides…" He stopped.

"What? Besides what?"

"This is going to sound bad but like…she's a foster kid, right? How's she going to buy a dress?"

A muscle was jumping in Booth's jaw; he didn't want to acknowledge that Patrick was right.

"Look, I'm just…looking out for you, dude. It'd just be a lot easier, on Temperance, too, if you just take Brooke and be done with it. Trust me."

Down the hall, Booth could see Brennan heading toward him, and he was suddenly seized with the need to end this conversation. "Yeah, sure, I get it. You're right."

"Alright, good." Patrick, looking relieved, clapped Booth on the shoulder. "I'll see ya at practice later, man."

~(B*B)~

From the moment the posters first appeared, Brennan started to worry about Booth and the dance.

She hoped he'd just be content to skipping it. He'd been doing that lately, skipping the seemingly important events within his previous social group to spend time with her instead, so it was possible.

But a formal dance was something different, after all, and Brennan started to worry he might decide they should go.

She'd never be able to get permission. Her few escapes to hockey games had resulted in severe punishments, even more severe than her usual nights.

Besides that, there was the dress. Even if she could buy one (which she couldn't), she'd never be able to wear it. Cocktail dresses left far too much exposed, and she'd be walking into the dance with evidence of some of Sean's punishments on display.

And then there was the fact that she couldn't quite shake the memory of what Jared had said, the one and only time she'd been to Booth's house. His insinuation had been that a set up, the kind that still worried her in some deep, hidden place, was being set, and the example he'd used was a prom.

A winter formal was close enough.

So she hoped Booth wouldn't even ask; it would save a lot of trouble.

Three days before the dance, he hadn't even mentioned the subject, and she was starting to relax. They were standing by his locker in the brief, seven minute period before the last class of the day, when Brooke Jessup came walking up to them.

She didn't even glance at Brennan, merely ran the tips of her fingers across Booth's chest and smiled up at him.

"So, Seeley boy, I hear we're all on for the dance Friday. My dress is red, so coordinate your tie, alright? None of that striped stuff like last year. And pick me up around seven." Then, before Booth could say a word, she pressed her body against his and kissed him. Drawing back slightly, Brooke smirked, "Just a preview for Friday night."

As Brooke turned and walked away, Booth leaned against his locker, stunned. Beside him, Brennan was frozen, her eyes wide, her heart feeling dull and sluggish in her chest.

When Booth recovered, he swung dazed eyes toward her. "Bones, I didn't…"

"I gotta go to class," Brennan muttered in a rush, spinning on her heel and nearly running down the corridor, away from him.

~(B*B)~

It was illogical, no matter which way you looked at it. She hadn't wanted to go to the dance, had actively been hoping he wouldn't ask her.

But this scenario had never occurred to Brennan: Booth going with someone else. Without her.

And why wouldn't he? There was nothing beyond friendship between them, never have been. They were friends, and even that was apparently unheard of. But no matter what the rest of the school thought, Booth had never indicated further interest.

Of _course_ he hadn't. He was a good looking, well liked, athletic senior. She was too strange, too difficult, too _something_ for him to feel much for.

He felt sorry for her, because he knew what it was like to have a difficult time at home. That was all.

But in spite of these inarguable facts, it had surprised and hurt her, and Brennan spent the whole of health class staring down at her notebook, eyes burning and throat aching as she tried desperately not to cry.

~(B*B)~

She didn't come to his locker after their last class.

Booth wandered to her own, but she wasn't there. It was one of the days where practice started almost immediately after school, so he wouldn't have been able to give her a ride home, but even on those days they always saw each other before she left. Always.

Not caring about practice, Booth tore out of the school and through the student parking lot to his car; he knew Brennan's route. He could find her.

He caught up with her two miles from the school, which could only suggest that she'd started walking almost immediately after the final bell.

"Bones!"

She didn't slow down, didn't glance at his car. Still, her voice was maddeningly calm, "Don't you have practice?"

"I don't care," Booth said bluntly, his car coasting alongside her. "I wanted to see why you took off."

Brennan stopped walking and turned to look at him, her face impassive. "You have practice. You don't take me home on practice days. I had no reason to come find you."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Booth countered, "Yeah, but you always do." When she said nothing, Booth sighed, "Come on, get in the car."

"You have to go to-"

"Forget practice, okay? I'm skipping. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

He could see it in her face, the internal debate on whether to stalk off or get in. Finally, Brennan came around to the passenger side and climbed inside the car.

Booth didn't move; rather, he shifted into park so he could turn and give Brennan his full attention. "I'm sorry."

Staring forward, Brennan replied, "For what?"

"For Brooke, in the hallway."

"There's no need to apologize. Public displays of affection at school are a little _distasteful_, but it's hardly a personal affront to _me_."

"Come on, Bones," Booth said softly. "You won't even look at me…you're mad."

"I'm not," she insisted stubbornly. "You're perfectly at liberty to kiss whoever you choose. Or to ask anyone to the dance."

"Well, I didn't ask her, and I wasn't going to. We went last year, and she just assumed there'd be a repeat performance, I guess. I haven't even talked to Brooke in weeks, I swear."

Brennan glanced at him, looking uncertain. "Really?"

"Really." Booth looked at Brennan; her eyes were tentative and nervous and hurt, and in that moment he only wanted to make her smile, to hell with what anyone else thought. "And, anyway, I wanted to ask you."

This transformed her expression, her surprise palpable. "You did?"

"Yeah, I just…I didn't know if you'd want to go with me."

Brennan smiled before she could help herself, but in the next instant it was gone. "Booth, I can't go, I…I wouldn't be allowed-"

"You come to the hockey games," he protested. "We don't have to be out late, I swear."

"I…I can't buy a dress, I don't have any money."

"I'm the guy, though," Booth told her, inventing wildly. "I pay for everything."

Brennan frowned, suspicious. "Even the dress?"

"Yeah, even that." In his head, he was calculating how much birthday money he had left, and how much he could get from pawning his old hockey skates, the ones he'd outgrown. "That's how we do it here, anyway."

Brennan looked away then, flushing. "I…I still…I can't."

"Why not?" Booth's voice was gentle. "We won't go eat with the other hockey players, okay? Just you and me."

"I _can't_," she repeated, her voice hitching.

"Hey…" Startled, Booth realized she was fighting tears. "What is it, what's wrong?"

Brennan sucked in a ragged breath, pressing the tips of her fingers to her eyes, humiliation burning in her chest. She was sitting in Booth's car, on the verge of bawling like a four year old, all because he'd asked her to a dance.

Finally, unable to think of another way to explain, she slowly and silently pulled off the hooded sweatshirt she'd been wearing all day, confirming what he'd most certainly already guessed.

Cuts and bruises tattooed the length of Brennan's arms and shoulders, at various degrees of healing.

It hurt more than he would have expected, seeing her like this. Booth had long assumed this went on, but staring at the evidence cut him fresh with anger and sorrow. He wanted to pull her into his arms and insist she never go back to that place, to talk her into telling someone…but he knew from experience it was never that easy.

"It's worse…other places," Brennan forced out with what sounded like extreme effort. "So I can't wear…I can't wear a dress, and you should just take that Brooke person…"

Then Booth's finger was on her lips, and all words left her.

"I want to take _you_," Booth said, his voice rough. "And you should know that I'm going to think you look beautiful." He swallowed, then added tentatively, "Like I always do."

Brennan's eyes welled once again; no one in her life had ever told her that before. "But…but the other kids-"

"It'll be dark," Booth said simply. "And you'll be with me." When silence lingered, he added hesitantly, "If you want to go, I mean."

She felt herself smiling. "I…I think I do."

The force of his own happiness took Booth by surprise. "Okay. It's a date."

"Um…" Brennan lowered her eyes. "A date?"

Booth's face reddened, and he stared fixedly out the window, but he nodded. "Yeah, I'd like it to be. If…if that's okay."

"It is," she replied, too quickly.

At the same moment, they both chanced a look at each other, and their eyes locked.

They smiled.

And Booth began making two sets of plans.

One for how he'd make their date amazing and memorable, the start of something.

And another for how he'd save her from what her foster father was doing.

~(B*B)~

Brennan stared at herself in the mirror and felt sick.

She'd bought the cheapest dress she could find, not wanting to ask Booth for much money (even though he insisted it was part of a date). It was black and simple, with thin straps and a low top that fell just above the knee.

But her eyes went straight to the amount of skin she was showing. The back was too low; almost half the scars from Sean's whip were still visible. Her arms and legs were mostly just faded, standard bruises, and there was still the gash from a beer bottle that was still healing on her shoulder…

There would be more tomorrow, that much was certain. She was sneaking out again, leaving before Sean got home from work so he wouldn't see the way she was dressed.

She shouldn't be going. There would be too many people there, none of whom liked her. There would be teachers; they could ask questions.

But Booth had called it a date. And she wanted to go.

~(B*B)~

Even though he was picking her up down the road from her house, Booth was as much as a gentleman as he could be.

He pulled the car to the side of the road and hopped out. "Wow…"

His whole face lit up, and he stared at her in wonder. Somehow, from the look in his eyes alone, Brennan could tell he wasn't staring at her injuries. He wasn't taken aback or disgusted or even pitying.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, almost awed, and for the first time in her life Brennan almost believed it.

Then, Booth remembered himself. "Oh, here." He handed her a corsage, and then walked around the car, opening the passenger door with a smile.

Soon, they were driving. Brennan glanced at the clock, then frowned. "Are we going to be late?"

"Nah, no one gets there until at least an hour after it starts," Booth answered easily. "We still have to eat and everything."

Brennan stiffened. "Eating? At a restaurant?" She glanced down again, self-conscious. The dance may be dark, but a restaurant wouldn't be.

"No restaurant," Booth said casually, but his eyes were soft with understanding. "It's a surprise."

Soon, they were passing the school, but instead of pulling into the student parking lot, Booth drove by until he got to the parking by the football stadium, where they spent so many nights.

"I figured it's kind of our spot," he told her with a grin.

Then Booth was pulling a large basket from the backseat, a blanket on top of it. He tucked it into the crook of his arm, his other hand sliding easily into Brennan's as they walked down the stairs toward the middle of the field and spread out the blanket.

"I know it's kinda cold," he said apologetically, draping his suit jacket around Brennan before she could protest. "So we'll be quick."

He began unpacking the basket. "Nothing fancy," he told her, passing over a grilled cheese sandwich. "But I was going for a kind of night picnic vibe."

Booth was nervous and talkative, and Brennan was nervous and quiet, but neither of them could stop smiling, and after a few minutes, they fell back into their usual comfort, talking easily as they ate.

The only thing separating this night from their usual nighttime excursions to the football field was the formal wear and the fact that, when they finished eating and stretched out on the blanket, Booth slid an arm around Brennan and she, in response, nestled closer to his chest.

~(B*B)~

It was so nice, lying against Booth on the field, that Brennan was almost disappointed when they eventually left to go to the dance.

Unlike prom, Winter Formal simply took place in the school, rather than a fancy rented venue. The common area, a large spacious area in the middle of the main building, had been converted into a dance floor. Lockers and vending machines had been draped with streamers, and the DJ table was set up by the cafeteria entrance.

As they entered, Brennan unconsciously moved closer to Booth. A few people stared openly when she first walked through, but soon they were lost in the dark crowd of the dance floor, Booth's hand reassuringly strong in hers.

Booth spotted some of his teammates and their dates, and he merely waved good naturedly. The idea that he might have been embarrassed seemed laughable. Brennan was gorgeous, and smart, and strong, and if they didn't see that, to hell with them. He was the lucky one.

"Let's dance," he yelled against her ear.

Brennan made a face. "I don't really know how."

"Good!" Booth grinned. "Me either!"

Then, he proceeded to prove himself correct, grabbing Brennan's hand and improvising wild, goofy dance moves that had her laughing breathlessly within minutes as she tried to keep up.

After over a half hour of that, a slow song came on. Booth smiled softly at her, then pulled Brennan against him, arms wrapped securely around her.

Brennan nestled her face against Booth's shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed the baseless, irrational desire to cry. Something about that moment, the music washing over her, Booth's arms around her, made her feel, very suddenly, for the first time in so long, that everything would be alright.

She was happy, and not so long ago that had seemed impossible.

"Booth?" she murmured, a catch in her voice.

"Hmmmm?"

"Thanks."

She meant a thousand things, and he drew back so he could look at her, thinking again that _he_ was the lucky one, the grateful one, the one that owed her everything.

Words to explain this failed him; so he closed his eyes and gently captured her lips in his.

For a moment, Brennan was frozen, shock and happiness and the slightest bit of fear paralyzing her, but then she was kissing him back, sweet and tentative.

It wasn't her first kiss, technically, but it was the first to count, the first one she'd wanted, to first one she'd returned. She thought, briefly, of Sean, with his hungry mouth and violent hands, but then Booth's thumb grazed her cheek, and the gentleness of the touch drove any other thought from her mind.

They broke apart when the song ended, and Booth gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "Whoa."

Almost shyly, Brennan looked at him for clarification. "Whoa good?"

"Whoa we should have been doing this a long time ago," Booth said with a grin.

~(B*B)~

After another forty-five minutes of dancing, they moved inside the cafeteria, where a table of punch and refreshments had been set up to grab a drink.

"My cuboids are extremely sore," Brennan complained as they returned to the common area, hovering on the edge of the dance floor. She glanced at a nearby circles of girls, all of whom were dancing in their bare feet. "If I'd realized coming barefoot was an acceptable protocol, it would have been much more painless."

Booth grinned. "I don't think they started out that way, Bones. He nodded toward a corner, where a pile of high heels had began to accumulate. "You could ditch yours."

"No, I can't, they were my mothers," Brennan informed him, staring down at the simple black heels, one of the handful of items she's hastily grabbed when a social worker showed up and handed her garbage bags to pack. "I don't want to lose track of them by mistake."

"Gotcha."

Brennan squinted down the hallway, trying to gauge the crowd. "I'm going to go to restroom…while there's no visible line."

"Okay." Booth plunked the empty punch cup out of her hand. "Want more?"

Nodding eagerly, Brennan stood.

"Alright. Meet you back here?"

When she nodded, Booth headed back inside, walking the parameter of the dance floor to return to the cafeteria, quickly moving through the line for the refreshment table and refilled both cups. He was about to go back out when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Patrick was standing behind him, looking sheepish. "Hey, man."

"Oh, hi," Booth replied, his voice cold.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize. For what I said, about you bringing the foster kid-"

"You want to apologize, try using her name," Booth growled; his tolerance for this crap was officially done.

"Right, right." Patrick held up his hands, looking genuinely chagrined. "About bringing Temperance, I…I had no right to say anything."

Booth felt the anger draining out of him. "Look, it's…it's cool. You were right about Joey and all those guys, anyway…that's why I didn't go eat with the team before."

"I figured." Patrick smiled. "You did the right thing, Seeley."

"I know I did."

Patrick smiled a little. "So seriously man…are you guys dating now? Or what?"

~(B*B)~

The girl's bathroom was far enough away from the dance floor to provide a respite from the deafening beat of the music. It was also empty, which should have struck Brennan as unusual, considering that there had been points during the evening when the line wound its way back to the dance floor.

She was washing her hands when it happened; the door, which had been propped open for the evening, slammed shut, and Joey Dahl stepped into view.

Brennan froze, staring at him. "You're in the wrong room," she blurted finally, something like fear beginning to curl the length of her spine.

"No, I don't think I am," Joey said, leering at her. "I cleared everyone out of here special. Been waiting all night for you to sneak away."

Brennan was backing up, her arms folded, heart beginning to pound. "Why's that?"

"I think you know…" Joey was advancing on her, and when her back collided with the wall he leaned forward, a hand on either side of her body, and hungrily pressed his lips against hers.

Shoving him off with surprising force, Brennan recoiled. "Get _off_ me."

Joey's eyes shone greedily. "Oh, so _that's_ your thing." His eyes surveyed her body, taking in the bruises. "I see you let Seeley get pretty rough." He pinned her again, leaning close, beer scented breath hitting her face. "Figured you had to be into something kinky to get him to stick around."

He leaned forward again, his lips rounding on her neck, the rough snake of his tongue grazing her skin.

Brennan drove her fist into his throat and shoved past him, desperate for the door, but Joey's foot caught her around the foot and she went sprawling across the tile, one shoe falling off, the fabric of her dress ripping,

Real, familiar terror was descending now, and Brennan lie for a moment, nauseous and paralyzed. She should fight, she _could_ fight him, but Sean had trained her too well, trained her into silence, trained her to lie still and take it.

Joey was on top of her then, his fingers working the clasp of her dress.

She began to thrash, suddenly, rolling out from under him. Joey sat up, disheveled and annoyed.

"What's your problem, slut?" He asked, genuine anger in his eyes. "We're doing this, this was the deal."

"What deal?" She asked tremulously, scrambling away from him, kicking off her remaining high heel so she could run.

"Seeley said if he got you here, we could all take a turn."

Brennan got shakily to her feet, and so did Joey, still glaring at her. "That's not true," she told him thickly. "I don't believe you."

"Oh yeah? Everyone else is waiting outside for their turn, the whole team." Joey touched her hair, that greedy look back on his face. "We were all waiting for it, figured you'd have to come in here eventually."

Brennan started toward the door, not wanting to hear anymore, but Joey grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly back in.

"You think we're just okay with him missing parties, missing _practices_, for nothing? It was all part of the plan...that day you saved Kenny's ass and got in my face? We started planning." He leaned close to her face, spitting each word with malice. "Don't. Ever. Threaten. Me. Bitch."

Then his mouth was on hers, his hands groping, but Brennan wrenched away in a panic fueled move and burst out of the bathroom door.

To find the hockey team lined up and waiting for her. They cheered when she burst out, and she felt them staring at her.

Then Booth came around the corner, Patrick, yet another member of the hockey team, walking with him. Even though he'd said he wasn't hanging out with them tonight.

Booth froze, staring at the scene in front of him. "Bones?"

She looked like she might fall over any second, and for the moment, Booth put the presence of his teammates out of his mind and stepped toward her, alarmed. "Bones, are you-"

The second his hand touched her arm, she pulled away as though she'd been scalded. Tears spilled over onto her cheeks, but she was staring at Booth with an anger that made him feel sick.

"Get the hell away from me," she whispered thickly, her eyes, terrified, scanning the crowd in front of her, before she spun and ran away from him.


	3. How to Save a Life

A/N: _Hey all. Sorry this has been such slow going…I'm having a pretty busy semester, and lots of my 'creative energy' is going toward writing scripts I need for classes or internship applications. This was originally going to be a three chapter fic. I ended up splitting the last chapter after I'd written it, so the next and final update should be really soon. I've been shocked and thrilled with the response to this, can't wait to hear what you think about this one, too._

Chapter Three

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
>Somewhere along in the bitterness<br>And I would have stayed up with you all night  
>Had I known how to save a life<em>

Dazed and slightly nauseated, Booth watched Brennan disappear from view. He could hear some sniggers behind him, but mostly his teammates were quiet, obviously waiting for a reaction.

For a moment, Booth felt disoriented by his own incomprehension, and he was torn between grabbing Joey by the throat and demanding an explanation, and following Brennan.

After a moment, panic shot through him, and it became suddenly, desperately important to stop Brennan from leaving.

"Bones!" He ran off after her, down the hallway, away from dance.

~(B*B)~

Brennan burst outside, gasping for air.

The quiet felt startling; the thump of the DJ's music distant and muffled from inside the school.

Brennan stood perfectly still, her arms wrapped around her trembling body, bare feet cold on the sidewalk, for about five seconds.

Then, abruptly, a crooked, strangled sound rose from her throat, and in the next moment she was sobbing, half from residual fear and panic, and half from pure, stinging hurt.

She sat down, hard, on the concrete steps outside the school's entrance. She drew her legs up, dropping her forehead against her knees, and cried.

"Bones…" Booth's voice, panicked and concerned, was suddenly right beside her. "Bones, what happened?" His hand rested on her back, and Brennan immediately recoiled, wrenching away and standing up, her back to him.

"Leave me alone," she snapped, her voice thick.

"Bones-"

"Get away, Booth-"

Booth was trying to get in front of her, but Brennan continually turned, avoiding his eyes, trying to keep walking. Their words tripped over each other, his imploring, hers protesting.

"Bones-"

"Stop it-"

"I don't get-"

"I mean it, go away-"

"Just tell me what happened-" He touched, her arm lightly, and suddenly she shoved him, hard. Booth stumbled back, surprised.

"Don't _fucking_ touch me," Brennan nearly yelled, her voice genuinely frightened.

Booth's face fell into devastation, recognizing the fear, as well the fact that it was directed at him.

"What…" Booth swallowed hard, his throat suddenly painfully tight. "What happened? What did Joey do?"

Brennan ducked her head, painfully aware of the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I think you know," she told him quietly.

"I…I swear…"

"Oh, stop it, Booth! He told me, he told me the whole plan."

Booth stared at her, sick with confusion. "I…I don't…"

"He said that you…that you told them all they could…they could have a…a _turn_ with me if you could convince me to come to the d-dance." Brennan's sentences were coming in halting, breathless gasps, like a child. Humiliated, she swiped her hand under her eyes and looked away. "He told me…he told me you've been planning it…since the day I threatened his genitalia in the stairwell."

Booth's eyes went wide. Rage would come, soon, but at the moment he felt numb with shock. "Wh-what?" His stomach clenched. "You…you believed him?"

"He was waiting in the bathroom!" She yelled, humiliation burning. "He tr-tried to kiss me, he knocked me down and…"

"He _what_?" Booth's face contorted, hatred stripped through his expression. "Bones, I never…you can't possibly think I would ever have let that bastard touch you-"

"It makes logical sense," Brennan barely whispered. "I was foolish, I…it's what Jared said in the beginning …I always wondered why…why me." Her face twisted, lip trembling. "I should have realized it didn't make sense."

There was nothing she could have said, in that moment, that would have broken his heart more.

"How can you not see it?" His voice was soft and desperate.

Brennan's chest hurt; she wanted to believe him, could feel herself being drawn into the softness of his eyes.

That had already been her mistake.

She started backing away, fervently shaking her head in response to the protests that were certainly coming. "I have to go-"

"Bones, please, you have to believe me I…I had no idea-"

"I have to go," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't see his face.

"Let me…let me give you a ride home-"

"No." Brennan hadn't stopped moving. "I don't want to see you, I don't…I don't want to talk to you-"

"Bones..." His shaking voice cracked around her name. "Please."

She choked on a sob, then turned around and hurried away.

~(B*B)~

Booth stood, staring after Brennan long after she'd disappeared from sight.

He felt strangely disconnected, unable to understand how his night had disintegrated so quickly.

It hurt, that she believed he was capable of something like that, but the reasons she believed it broke his heart, so it was impossible to find any sort of anger directed at Brennan.

Suddenly, though, a different sort of rage seized him, and suddenly Booth was so angry he couldn't see straight.

Booth spun around, heading back toward the school and striding down the hallway. He was trembling with fury, and he still felt sick, but the fixation on a task, on making someone pay, was momentarily distracting.

The crowd of hockey players were still outside the bathroom, as though they were waiting for him. Booth stalked toward him, pinning his gaze on Joey.

Joey _smirked_.

"Everything okay, Seeley?" His voice was parodying concern, and any amount of restraint Booth had snapped, and in the next second Joey was flat on his back on the floor, Booth's knees on his stomach as he drove his fists violently and repeated against Joey's face.

There was a roaring in Booth's ears that drowned out the yelling from the rest of the hockey team. They converged on him, some hands simply trying to pull him off, while others tried to join the fight. A strange sort of primal strength pumped through Booth's veins, and he thrashed away from interference, intent on destruction.

"You…miserable…_fucker_ ," he growled, the gratifying feel of knuckles against flesh punctuating each word. Joey's face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess.

Finally, it took three hockey players to get a grip on Booth and pull him to his feet, off of Joey. Instantly, he jerked from their grip and spun, swinging at whoever's face was closest, no longer caring about the distinction. Joey had initiated it, obviously, but they'd all been there. None of them had stopped it.

Booth's expression was wild and animalistic, and Joey had barely gotten to his feet when Booth made it back to him, gripping his collar and snarling in his face, "What did you do to her?"

"Fuck off, Seeley," Joey yelled, his words garbled by a mouth full of blood, but for the first time he got his own hit off, but it wasn't enough to make Booth release him. There was a bang as the two of them barreled into the lockers, Joey's head colliding with the metal.

They were on the ground again when larger, stronger arms gripped Booth's shoulders and wrenched him off Joey.

Abruptly, the roaring in Booth's ears stopped, and he became aware of the eerie quiet of the hallway.

A crowd had gathered now, from the dance, and though they might have been cheering at some point, they were now silent, waiting. The rest of the hockey team had straightened up and backed away.

Coach Flacks had Booth in a death grip. Principal Dylan was pulling Joey to his feet, and several other teachers who'd been chaperoning were attempting to make the crowd disperse.

Booth was shaking underneath his coach's grip, his body tense, eyes still narrowed on Joey, as though he was simply waiting to be released so he could resume his attack.

Slowly, Coach Flacks released his hold, but he cuffed his hand around the back of Booth's neck and growled, low in his ear, "You. My office. _Now_."

~(B*B)~

Brennan spent the long, freezing walk home trying to calm herself down.

She'd been worried about something like this, in the back of mind, from the very beginning. Had maybe been expecting it. So it was irrational to be upset.

It had been too good to be true. She had known that.

Her feet were numb with cold by the time she got to the house. Shivering, Brennan made her way across the yard to her bedroom window.

She braced her fingers against the window pane and pushed slowly, a familiar gesture.

Except, this time, it didn't open.

For a moment, Brennan felt breathless and dizzy with fear. She'd snuck out of her window to meet Booth earlier, so it was impossible that she'd left it locked.

That meant Sean had been in her room. He knew she was gone.

The urge to run swelled up in her chest. To just turn and run away, from the Lowells, from the social workers, from Booth and the rest of the hockey team and everyone else at that school…

But Brennan was too logical, too realistic. She wouldn't get far with no money. The one person she knew outside of this town was her brother, and she had no way of finding him even if he would want her to. And with only her black dress and no shoes or coat…she could likely catch pneumonia or even hypothermia.

So Brennan steeled herself, and walked around the house to the back door.

She slipped inside, cautiously relieved to find the house dark and silent. She moved slowly and deliberately down the hallway, avoiding the places where she knew the wooden floor creaked.

Finally, she reached her bedroom, and gratefully opened the door and stepped inside.

To find Sean sitting on the edge of her bed, idly spinning his wooden baseball bat against his palms.

Brennan froze, protests welling in her throat, useless. Sean lifted cold, grey eyes to look at her, the muscles in his face tightening.

"Well," he began in the usual deceptively mild tone. "Nice of you to finally make it home." His eyes roved her body, a low growl rising from Sean's throat. "Dressed like _that_."

"It was…it was just a school dance," Brennan stammered finally, her mouth dry.

"Liar," Sean barked, no traces of calm in his voice anymore. He stood up and walked toward her, his fingers seizing the side of her dress, the place where Joey had ripped it in his attempted assault. "Who've you been with?"

"N-no one, I swe-" The protests, always fruitless, was cut off by the crack of Sean's palm against her cheek.

"What have I told you…" He demanded, low and menacing. "…about turning into a filthy little _slut_?" He hit her again, this time with a fist, and Brennan's stomach rolled, the bitter, acidic taste of bile rising in her throat and choking her.

Sean grabbed her arm and threw her on the bed like it was nothing, shifting the bat from under his arm and gripping it in his hands. The mild tone back, he said simply, "You know it's against our rules, Temperance. And you understand you have to be punished for breaking a rule." Sean lifted the bat. "How many times?"

Brennan closed her eyes, shaking her head, her breathing coming in quick, panicked gasps. "_None_, I swear-"

He brought the bat swinging down, cracking against her ribs, and Brennan couldn't stop herself from crying out as the pain shot through her. "Tell the truth."

"Once, just once, I promise…" she whimpered, inventing wildly. It was no use trying to predict these situations, no telling what was the best lie to make it end quickly.

He brought the bat down again, harder, and Brennan's vision tunneled and darkened, the room spinning around her.

Brennan had long ago stopped crying when things like this happened, learning that it just spurned Sean on. Sometimes he seemed to get off on her fear, while during the 'punishments' it merely annoyed him.

But now she was sobbing hard, her hands over her face, tears streaking from her eyes. It was all too much, this night that had shredded the one bit of happiness in her life in such a cruel and frightening way.

She was crying too hard to answer Sean's question, so he merely gave up that technique, beating her rib cage with no precursor.

For the first time, Brennan genuinely wished he wouldn't find a stopping point.

"Just _kill_ me," she choked out between sobs when the pain was threatening to swallow her. Her voice was almost hysterical. "_Please_, just…just do it already…"

Suddenly, Sean paused in his methodical violence, looking down at her with an intense gaze. The bat clattered to the floor, and Sean reached out, his finger tracing Brennan's wet cheek, his lips twisting into a smile.

"Don't be ridiculous, Temperance. I would never kill you. I only do this because I care about you. You know that." He sat down on the bed, running a hand gently over her aching, probably cracked ribs. "I'm your foster father. That means I'm responsible for taking care of you…and teaching you lessons. I only do this to teach you a lesson."

Brennan's heart was hammering painfully in her chest. She knew what was coming.

Sean bent over her, pulling Brennan against him and brushing his lips repeatedly against her tear streaked cheeks. "I always remind you how much I care about you after. Don't I?"

~(B*B)~

Pops hadn't said a word to Booth since the moment he arrived at the school. Not when he appeared in the office, not while Coach Flacks and Principal Dylan and Assistant Principal Green went through what happened. Not the whole ride from the school to their house, which Booth made with Pops in spite of the fact that his own car was still in the parking lot.

The silence last until they walked into the house, and Pops immediately turned toward his grandson and pointed toward the living room couch. "Sit."

Booth knew better than to protest. He felt impossibly small as he sat down in the center of the couch, across from Pops in his customary recliner. Hank Booth's face was uncharacteristically hard, disappointment emanating from him.

The silence held again for several long, uncomfortable moments. Finally, though, Hank began to speak, voice low and deliberate. "I expected better from you. This kind of…_violence_ especially was something I never thought I would have to worry about."

Immediately, Booth's face burned, and he looked away, shame filling him. Pops' implication was clear, and suddenly the living room seemed crowded with the shadow of Booth's father.

Still, Booth finally spoke, almost defiant. "He deserved it."

For a moment, Pops scrutinized Booth in silence. Finally, his voice softened by a few degrees, he prompted, "Tell me what happened, Seeley."

Immediately, Booth's throat narrowed and his vision blurred. He could feel the hot, burning swell of the humiliation that came from being a teenage boy about to cry.

"Bones…he…he cornered her in a bathroom, and…I think, he…I think he tried to have…have sex with her." His voice was tight and strangled, and Booth pressed his fists against his eyes, painfully aware of the burning sensation of tears. "He told her…he told her it was _planned_, that I promised…that I promised the whole hockey team could have a turn with her if…if I could fool her into…into coming to the dance. So he basic…he basically attacked her, and then he lied to her and…and she came outside with her dress all, all ripped and the whole team was waiting out there, like in line and she thought I…she thinks I planned…" A shuddering gasp punctuated this statement, and Booth set his jaw, his lips trembling, eyes tightly closed.

After a moment, he felt a hand clasp around his shoulder, and Booth opened his eyes to find that Pops had moved beside him on the couch.

"I don't…I don't know why she believes him," Booth choked out quietly.

Pops sighed. "It seems to me that it doesn't take much for Temperance's trust to fall apart. From what you've said…it's hard for her to accept that someone cares about her." Pops met Booth's eyes. "That's not your fault, and it's not hers either."

"I know."

"You'll be able to convince her," Pops told him softly. "When the shock of it isn't so fresh."

Booth shrugged listlessly, discreetly wiping the edge of his sleeve under his eyes.

"But you need to tell them what happened, when you go in tomorrow."

There hadn't been time tonight, with the dance about to end and all the chaperones needed, for Booth to get punished. But he had a meeting with his coach, as well as the principal, the next morning, a Saturday, which was enough to know how serious this was.

~(B*B)~

"You know the policy here, son," Coach Flacks was saying gruffly. "There's a week's suspension for fighting."

"And this was less of a fight than an attack, from what we've heard," Principal Dylan put in, his expression stern.

Both men stared at Booth, as though they were waiting for him to protest this. Finally, he just said, "Yes, sir."

"Seeley, look…" Coach Flacks leaned forward, meeting his eye. "We know this isn't like you…Joey's your teammate…something obviously happened."

Booth looked blankly at both of them. In spite of what his grandfather had said, Booth hadn't decided yet if he was willing to tell the truth about what happened.

The two men exchanged looks, and then Principal Dylan stated carefully, "What we're saying, Seeley…is that if you could tell us something that might make us understand…we could reconsider the punishment."

"A week's suspension, Seel," the coach reminded him, arching an eyebrow. "That includes all extracurriculars…"

All at once, Booth got it.

The state hockey play-offs started this week. The first game was Wednesday, and, provided they won that one, there'd be another Friday night.

His coach, even the principal…they didn't care what really happened. They just wanted a reason to allow him to play in the hockey game. And no matter what he told them, they'd do the same thing for Joey.

In that moment, Booth felt utterly sick of all of it.

He looked his coach right in the eye. "I know that, sir."

Looking slightly desperate, the coach said again, "So there's nothing…nothing else you think we should know."

The last thing Booth wanted was to be around his teammates, at school or on the hockey rink.

"No. There's nothing."

~(B*B)~

It was a long shot, but that night, Booth drove by Brennan's house again and again, flickering the lights on his car, their long established signal.

There was never an answering flash of light from Brennan's bedroom; but Booth hadn't really expected one.

About two minutes after he left the school, panic had descended. Booth had just accepted a weeklong suspension.

And suddenly he had no way of seeing Brennan and making things right.

He'd tried calling her house a few times that afternoon, something had been implicitly forbidden before. Every time, her foster father had answered, and Booth had lost his nerve and hung up without asking to speak to her.

Now, in spite of the lack of response, Booth parked in his usual spot around the corner, wishing Brennan was coming to meet him like always.

He put the car in park and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, frustrated ad helpless. He wouldn't be at school all week, which meant Booth was banned from the one place he knew he could find her.

That wouldn't work; he couldn't go a week without seeing her, without explaining. Every time Booth pictured the hurt, betrayed expression on Brennan's face last night, outside the school, he felt shaky and sick.

But she'd never told him quite enough. He knew, now, that her foster father hit her, but he knew no specifics. He knew he'd never been allowed to come to her door, or call, but he never knew why.

And the fear of somehow making it worse for her kept him from a direct approach.

~(B*B)~

For the rest of the weekend, Booth spent an inordinate amount of his time driving by Brennan's house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, with no success.

On Monday morning, in spite of his suspension, Booth woke up at his usual time and got in his car, and drove to the road where he usually met Brennan before school in the morning, hoping to catch her walking the route.

He drove around the area until eight am, when the first bell would be ringing at the school.

Then he had no choice but to go home, unable to get to her.

~(B*B)~

"You know everyone at school hates you now," Jared announced the second he burst into the kitchen. "Coach is playing that Ned Thompson kid in your spot, and for the first time in, like, forever, we'll be losing in the first round of play offs." Jared slung his backpack on the chair next to Booth's and smirked. "Hope the foster kid was worth it."

All weekend, it felt like Booth had been hovering over an edge, barely keeping his grip. Now he could feel himself losing control, slipping. It made him feel like he was constantly seconds away from losing it, and completely falling apart.

And so within seconds, Booth found himself on his feet, his hands fisting the front of his brother's jacket, screaming in his younger brother face, "You know what, you can shut the _fuck_ up, Jared. I don't want to hear another word about her from you, you…" Abruptly, Booth released him, but continued to glare at him. "You….you're no better than anyone else, you're the one who…"

When Booth trailed off, Jared prompted, "What, Seel? How the hell are you going to make this _my_ fault?"

"She _believed_ him. She believed Joey when he said I helped plan that, that I set her up to be…to get _passed_ _around_ by the entire damn team like some sort of fucking party favor!" Booth was shaking, and he could see in Jared's face how genuinely taken aback he was. "And do you know _why_? Because ever since she first came here, you put it in her head that I was setting her up. When you _knew _it wasn't like that. And ever since then, she's been waiting for it!" For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Booth's face contorted, his voice cracking as he spat, "So _don't_ think you had nothing to do with this."

Then Booth shoved past his brother and slammed out of the house.

~(B*B)~

It was almost midnight when Booth got back to the house.

"She wasn't at school today."

Booth paused in the hallway, and glanced toward the living room. Jared was lying on the couch, and after a moment of silence he glanced up at Booth, expression impassive. "I just thought you'd want to know."

It wasn't surprising, really, that Brennan would skip school after what happened Friday, especially since she didn't know about his suspension. But Booth couldn't suppress a trickle of fear.

Finally, Booth nodded once, the most conciliatory gesture he could offer, then headed upstairs.

"Pops said to knock on his door to let him know you were home," Jared called after him.

~(B*B)~

On Tuesday, Brennan went back to school.

She was still walking stiffly from what she assumed were broken ribs, and the thought of seeing Booth was terrifying, for some reason, but she couldn't stay in that house for another day.

So she braved renewed whispers and stares without trying to understand them. She spent the day avoiding the hallway where Booth's locker was, and trying not to miss him.

"Hey…" For the first time all day, Brennan lifted her eyes from the floor, and found Jared Booth standing in front of her.

He'd followed her out of health class, and was now standing awkwardly in front of her, unable to stop himself from glancing around periodically, obviously wanting to keep the conversation brief.

Brennan tensed instantly, shoving her way past him and muttering, "Don't even bother…"

Jared followed her, persistent. "Don't bother with what?"

"You're obviously here to gloat that your original hypothesis was correct, and that you knew from the beginning."

Rolling his eyes and grimacing, Jared wedged himself in front of her. "No, I'm not. I actually just wanted to tell you that all that was bullshit. I was just…talking out of my ass, and making stuff up because my brother…he wouldn't do something like that."

Just like that, Brennan's throat narrowed, hurt stinging fresh. "Except he _did."_

"Oh, come on. No _way_ he knew. If he did, why would he be suspended?"

At that, Brennan stopped trying to outpace Jared and pulled up to a stop. "Wha...Booth got suspended?"

Jared gave her a look that suggested it was ridiculous she didn't know that. "Yeah. All week, he's…he's going to have to miss the first playoff game."

"But…why? Why is he suspended?"

"Have you _seen_ Joey Dahl's face?" Jared asked incredulously. "Seeley basically _attacked _him at that dance."

Brennan didn't reply; she felt dizzy with confusion, unable to come up with a logical reason Booth would have beaten up Joey Dahl.

When she continued to stand stock still in the middle of the hallway, silent, Jared merely shrugged. "Thought you'd want to know."

Then he was gone.

~(B*B)~

Brennan didn't know what to think anymore.

There didn't seem to be any logical correlation between Booth planning what happened with Joey, and then beating Joey up over it.

But she couldn't get past the moment of stumbling out of the bathroom, terrified and exposed, to find the entire hockey team waiting for her…and seeing Booth come around the corner, like he was joining them.

Still, that night, when she saw the flickering of his headlights from her window, Brennan, just for a second, was painfully tempted to reply to the signal, to flick her lights back at Booth and run down the street to meet him.

But she wasn't ready, yet, to believe him. So Brennan stayed still, her eyes closed, trying to ignore the pressure in her chest, the longing for the safety and hope she had always felt around Booth.

~(B*B)~

By Wednesday morning, Booth was dangerously close to losing it.

All week, he'd been dealing with calls from kids he'd barely spoken to in months, wanting to know if it was true, if he really wasn't playing in the game. Yet Booth was completely cut off from the one person he needed to talk to.

He was lying listlessly on the couch in the middle of the day when Pops walked into the living room and settled himself in his favorite recliner and opened a newspaper. "Okay over there?" he asked casually after a few moments

"No," Booth replied in a low, surly voice.

His grandfather lowered the newspaper to look at him. "Thinking about the game tonight?"

"I don't care about that," Booth snapped, defensive. Then, quieter, he continued, "I don't want to play with those guys anyway. Act like a _team_…we're _not_ a team. I hate them." Booth paused, as though waiting to be contradicted.

Finally, Hank just nodded, then said carefully, "Still. You've worked hard this season, Seel…it'd make sense to be disappointed." After a moment of no response, Pops asked him, "Have you spoken to Temperance?"

"No," Booth replied in a small voice, his face tightening. "I need to explain, to make her believe me, but I…I can't even get in touch with her."

"Been to her house?"

"I…I drove by, hoping to catch her but…" Booth looked away, faltering, unsure how to explain the foster parents, the uncertainty of the house.

"Seeley…" For the first time, Hank put down his paper completely, giving Booth a serious look. "Listen to me. I saw the way that girl looked at you. She didn't give a damn about a hockey game, but she didn't take her eyes off you for one second you were on the rink." The slightest light flared in Booth's eyes for the first time in days, and Hank half smiled at him. "She'll believe you, Seeley. But you need to find a way to talk to her, show her how important it is to you. She'll listen."

Booth nodded slowly.

~(B*B)~

That night, Brennan watched the familiar flicker of headlights against her window, and thought suddenly of the playoff hockey game taking place in some other high school. She thought of how the practices Booth had put in, of how good he was, how critical to the team.

He was missing it, now, and all the evidence seemed to suggest he was missing it because he'd been defending _her_ . Which, again, logically, seemed to point to the fact that he really hadn't been involved.

The lights flickered again, the repetition unusual.

Her throat narrow, Brennan watched the light reflecting off her dark bedroom wall. In spite of having drawn that conclusion, acknowledging the high probability that Booth had told her the truth, she couldn't shake a sense of fear.

She'd been more of a target, hanging out with Booth. That much was obvious. Senior boys who never would have bothered with her before had gone out of their way to attack.

Logic dictated, then, that cutting her ties to Booth was advantageous.

But that didn't factor in how much she missed him. Or how amazing it had been to feel like someone cared about her.

Or how much she wanted to see him, right now, as his headlights flickered for a third time.

Brennan stood up and went to the window, barely pulling aside the curtains.

Booth's car was parked across the street. Dimly, she could see his outline, silhouetted in the front seat, and longing swelled in Brennan's chest.

The headlights blinked yet another time, and Brennan moved away from the window, tentatively reaching for the light switch and flickering back.

She returned to the window and watched as Booth's car pulled out of sight, headed just around the corner to their meeting place, and Brennan couldn't help smiling as she pushed the window open. Immediately, the chill of the night air hit her, and Brennan began scrambling around her tiny bedroom for her shoes and coat.

Her fingers were hurriedly fumbling with the laces of black Chuck Taylors when her bedroom door opened.

Brennan froze. Sean's gaze took in the open window, her jacket; his eyes narrowed, face hardening. "Going somewhere?"

~(B*B)~

Booth's heart was pounding as he sat in his car, tapping his fingers spastically against the steering wheel.

He kept telling himself it was a good sign that Brennan had answered, but Booth was nervous. He'd been so focused on the mere task of getting to her that Booth hadn't figured out what, exactly, he could say to make Brennan believe him.

The minutes ticked by, and Booth started to worry that she'd merely been getting rid of him. It had never taken more than a minute or so for Brennan to run around the corner and meet him.

Another few minutes passed, and Booth, uneasy, cranked his car and drove back toward the house.

Pulling up at the curb, Booth rolled down his window and squinted toward Brennan's window; it was open now, but she wasn't emerging. For a moment, he was confused, unsure of what to do.

Then, Booth heard a distant cry of pain that shot straight to his chest.

Without stopping to think, Booth was out of his car, sprinting across the lawn, and crawling through Brennan's open window.

And hurling himself against her foster father, who was crouched over Brennan on the bed, hitting her with a baseball bat.

It was the surprise more than anything that sent Sean to the floor, Booth on top of him. The bat clattered down beside them as it slipped from Sean's grip.

"_Booth_." Brennan's voice registered, briefly, but in the next second Booth was flat on his back. Sean had effectively flipped their positions, and the man's hands were on Booth's throat as he snarled, "Who the hell are you?"

Booth struggled to get up, but found himself overpowered by Sean's easy strength, and a wave of long dormant panic washed over him.

He fought it by focusing on Brennan, choking out, "Bones, _run_." Booth couldn't see her, but he knew she wasn't moving.

Sean threw her a look over his shoulder, his face open and enraged. "So _he's_ the one?" Without waiting for an answer, Sean started to drive his fists against Booth's jaw.

"_No_!" Brennan's scream was unrecognizable even to her. She jumped off the bed, making it to Sean and Booth in two strides. She grabbed the arm Sean was slamming against Booth, trying to hold it back, but Sean easily threw her backwards, and Brennan crumpled against the wall.

"_Hey_!" Booth took advantage of the momentary break of hitting to take a swing at the man, Booth's fist colliding with Sean's jaw.

Though Booth's position on the floor allowed for very little strength behind the punch, Sean gave an indignant growl and, gripping Booth by the throat again, lifted his head and slammed it against the hardwood floor.

Booth's vision narrowed, bursts of white exploding in front of his eyes as Sean repeated the action two more times.

Then, just as consciousness slipped away from him, Booth got a hazy vision of Brennan standing over Sean, a baseball bat raised in her hands.

~(B*B)~

"Booth…Booth, wake up…" Brennan's voice was clogged with tears, panic threatening to drown her. She touched her fingers to Booth's forehead, but he didn't stir.

Sean was unconscious beside them, but Brennan knew enough to understand that her single blow to her foster father's head wasn't likely to knock him out for very long.

"Booth, we have to go…" She tried, desperate. Her fingers trembled as she felt for his pulse, probably the fifth time she'd done so, a pointless reassurance. "_Please_ wake up…"

A pained moan sounded, and for a moment Brennan felt weak with relief…until she realized it hadn't come from Booth.

She twisted in time to see Sean's eyes snap open. He glanced around, unfocused, for a moment before settling his gaze on hers, face set in a grimace. Slowly, though, he pulled himself up. Brennan stared at him, paralyzed with fear.

"Oh, Temperance," he hissed at her. "That was a _bad_ idea."

"I…I'm sorry-"

"I'm afraid you've got a very, _very_ severe lesson to learn this time, Temperance." Sean's glowering eyes never left Brennan's, and he reached blindly behind him until his hand closed around the bat which, belatedly, Brennan realized she'd discarded. "You need to know how it feels…that's the best way for you to learn…"

He swung at her, hard and fast, and there was a blinding burst of pain just before everything went black.

~(B*B)~


	4. Holding On and Letting Go

_Hey guys! At last, the final installment. I still can't believe this little spur of the moment experiment got such a great response. Thanks so much for sticking with it, and let me know what you think of the ending chapter._

Chapter Four

_Is anybody out there?  
>Is anybody listening?<br>Does anybody really know if it's the end of the beginning?  
>The quiet rush of one breath<br>Is all we're waiting for  
>Sometimes the one we're taking<br>Changes every one before.._

_It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't_  
><em>It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed<em>  
><em>Some prayers find an answer<em>  
><em>Some prayers never know<em>  
><em>We're holding on and letting go<em>

Booth's vision was bleary when he opened his eyes, the ceiling of Brennan's bedroom swimming in front of him.

His disorientation dissolved within seconds, and Booth jerked himself upright, eyes panning the bedroom in panic.

He was alone.

Fear knifed through him the second Brennan's absence registered, and her name rounded in his throat, but something kept him quiet.

Booth's instinct was to run through the house and find her, but there was no point in pretending he was a physical match for Sean Lowell…especially when the older man had a baseball bat and God knows what else at his disposal.

Swallowing his terror and fighting dizziness, Booth turned and crawled through Brennan's open window, taking off at a run the second his feet hit the ground.

~(B*B)~

Brennan woke up to darkness, the familiar, metallic smell of blood overwhelming her senses.

She struggled to lift her head, instinctively, and collided with a solid surface. She kicked her legs, and again met resistance.

Clarity dawned, and as Brennan realized where she was, a tidal wave of panic threatened to drown her.

This wasn't the first time Sean had stuffed her in the car trunk. She knew she could be here for days, but she also knew she'd be let out eventually.

But Booth was unconscious in her bedroom, and there was no precedent to know what Sean might do to him.

Terror surging, Brennan flattened herself as best she could in the trunk, bracing her hands on either side, bending her knees, and kicked against the top of the trunk.

She hadn't tried this method since the first time this punishment had happened, when she'd been inside for two days after breaking a dish. It had been futile then, and it was futile now, but desperation blocked the logical portion of her brain, and Brennan kicked until she started to feel lightheaded.

When she finally stopped, her legs trembling with the effort, Brennan was crying, gasping, panicked sobs of frustration and terror.

Time moved excruciatingly slowly in the car trunk, and every agonizing second was another second that Booth was alone with Sean.

~(B*B)~

When the front door of a neighbor's house swung open after thirty seconds of pounding on the door, the woman's eyes went wide at the sight of a wild-eyed, frantic teenage boy with blood on his shirt standing on her porch.

"I'm sorry," Booth panted. He felt dizzy and weak, and he was clutching at a stitch in his side, though it hadn't been a long run across the street. "Please, my friend, she…she's hurt, if I…if I could just use your phone…"

The woman visibly hesitated, unconsciously pushing the door a little further shut.

"_Please_," he begged, voice cracking. "Please…" Booth cast a glance over his shoulder, at the Lowell house across the street.

Suddenly the woman's face changed. "Is your friend…do you mean the Lowell's foster girl?"

"Yes."

The door opened wide, and the woman gestured for him to come in. "There's a phone in the hallway."

~(B*B)~

Booth didn't wait for the police to come; just knowing they were on their way allowed him to sprint across the street, intent on finding Brennan.

Her bedroom window was closed.

Peering inside and still seeing no one, Booth ran to the front door and started to knock incessantly.

The door swung open after nearly a minute of that, and before Booth could even register, Sean had thrown him down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

"I don't know who the hell you are, boy," Sean stated, his voice low and measured. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from here. And you'll stay away from Temperance."

Booth stared up at him, bracing his elbows on the sidewalk, glaring. "Where is she?"

"None of your concern," Sean gritted out. "I'll give you one more chance to get the hell off my property…"

Booth ignored him. He was looking past Sean into the open door of the house, wishing for some sign that Brennan was alright. Spontaneously, he yelled for her, as loud as he could, "_Bones_!"

Sean's face twisted in an angry incomprehension, and he came down the porch steps, close enough that Booth could see the muscle jumping in his jaw.

Then, suddenly, Sean's expression changed, his eyes shifting behind Booth, focusing instead on the police car pulling up to the curb.

By the time two police officers started up the sidewalk, Sean's expression had become one of mild surprise. "Officers?"

Grimacing, Booth pulled himself to his feet. One of the policemen met his eyes. "Seeley Booth?"

Booth nodded mutely, and Sean stared back and forth between the two of them, doing a frighteningly good job of feigning confusion. "What's the trouble, officers?"

"Mr. Lowell, I'm Officer Thames…we got a call from the boy expressing some concern…"

"Right, right," Sean said quickly, cutting him off. "I'm afraid I reacted a bit quickly…the boy snuck in through the window, see, trying to see my daughter-"

"She's not your _daughter_," Booth snapped heatedly. He was shaking with rage, terror throbbing throughout his body, angry at the fact that nothing was happening, that he still didn't know where Brennan was.

Sean ignored him, "I saw him crawling in and jumped to conclusions, thought he was breaking in-"

Thames interrupted smoothly, "Sir, where is your foster daughter?"

"Well, that's part of it. She isn't even home, so I didn't think he'd be coming to see her-"

"Where is she?"

"Uh, the hockey finals are tonight. At the high school." Sean smiled mildly. "All those kids are at the game."

The officers exchanged glances, and Booth felt sick, fear and anger dovetailing. "He's lying, she was just here, he…he was hitting her with a bat and I got him off her..he _hits her_ all the time-"

The fury that flashed in Sean's eyes was a warning, and it was gone as quickly as it came. "He's hysterical," Sean stated flatly, in a voice that suggested he pitied Booth. "As I've said, gentleman, my daughter's at the hockey game tonight."

Booth clenched his fists, sure he might snap any second, scream at the officers to storm the house until they found her, scream at Sean to stop lying, when a woman appeared on the porch behind them, small with hunched shoulders and darting eyes. "What's going on?"

Sean's face froze, while the younger officer stepped forward slightly. "Mrs. Lowell?"

The woman nodded, expression uncertain. "Annie."

"Annie, I'm Officer Frost…do you know where your foster daughter tonight?"

Immediately, her eyes darted to Sean, frightened, looking for instructions. His face tightened, a menacing warning in his expression.

Annie began to stammer, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. "She's…um…T-Temperance is…"

The officer's expressions had hardened. "Mrs. Lowell, has your husband ever hurt Temperance?"

"I…I…"

"_Annie_," Sean snarled, his control snapping, and immediately Officer Thames gripped Sean by the arm. "Mr. Lowell, why don't you come with me…"

Booth couldn't wait anymore. He ran past the rest of them, into the house, yelling for her, "Bones!"

~(B*B)~

"I was inside the neighbor's long enough to use the phone, and then I was back outside," Booth's voice was shaking with the effort of staying calm, staying stagnant. "He didn't take her anywhere, she's _in the house._"

The house was crawling with police officers, and an ambulance was parked outside, waiting. Sean Lowell was handcuffed in the back of a police car, refusing to admit to anything, or reveal where Brennan was. Annie Lowell was in the yard, being interrogated, weakly promising that she didn't know where he'd put her this time.

"Alright," Officer Frost was taking his statement in the living room, while other people milled around, looking for her.

"It wasn't that long, I wasn't…I wasn't unconscious long, I looked at the clock at that neighbor's house…"

"If she's here, we'll find her."

Booth's face constricted, because he knew what no one was saying; Brennan was here, somewhere, but she wasn't answering, and it had been over an hour. That couldn't mean anything good.

"She…she hit him," Booth managed in a quiet voice. "She was…she was about to hit him, with the bat before I passed out. To save _me_. She can't…" He leaned forward, closing his eyes. "Whatever he did to her…she has to be okay."

Before Officer Frost answered, there was a voice from another part of the house. "Seeley?"

Hank Booth came striding into the living room, his gaze snapping right to his grandson, accessing him as he sat down beside him on the couch. "They haven't found her?"

Booth shook his head mutely.

Pops introduced himself to the officer and began asking questions, and Booth stood abruptly, resuming his pace around the house, wanting to believe that he could somehow find her when these police officers couldn't.

~(B*B)~

Another hour passed; the house, the yard, and the garage were still being searched.

Booth stood on the porch, feeling like he was breaking apart. He stared across the yard, eyes on Sean Lowell's outline in the cop car. Booth hated his right to remain silent, hated that one of those police officer's couldn't simply pull out their gun and demand Sean tell them where she was.

Then, his eyes fell on Annie Lowell, standing in the yard next to an officer, no longer talking.

Before he could think about it, Booth was walking toward her. "Mrs. Lowell?"

Her small, watery blue eyes slid to him. She was a short, unnaturally thin woman with a perpetually frightened expression that was unsettlingly familiar. "Yes?"

Booth swallowed, suddenly losing his words.

He'd never heard Brennan mention this woman; when she called home after school, furtively claiming study sessions and promising to be home as soon as possible, she was always speaking to Sean. Booth had almost forgotten the presence of a foster mother…a silent, passive witness to everything her husband did to a fifteen year old girl they were supposed to take care of.

"I…I'm the one who called the police. Bones…" Flushing, he corrected himself, "Temperance, she's…she's my best friend. I need her to be okay, I…" He took a breath, holding her eyes. "I love her. And I need her to be okay. So…" His intention was to sound firm, but his voice was suddenly shaky and small, like a young, scared little boy. "If you know anything…"

"I don't," Annie told him softly. "I wasn't watching, I never…I never watch…" She lifted her gaze from the ground. "I don't _like_ what he does to her, I don't…"

"Then…then _why_?" Booth burst out. "Why let him? Why even take her in the first place, I don't…" Suddenly, his throat tightened around the accusation as Annie Lowell's face fell in shame, and in that moment, Booth realized who she reminded him of.

His mother.

It was only the rare occasion before his mother left that Booth's father would come after him or Jared. But it did happen. And each time, he would watch his mother slink into the background, leaving the room, unable to watch but never intervening.

For years he'd hated her for that, almost as much as he'd hated her for walking out, for leaving him and Jared alone with a man who suddenly saw them as his main targets.

But there had also been times, in the years after she left, when he would secretly, selfishly wish for his mother to come back. Not because he missed her, and not because she would help him…but because when she had been there, _he_ hadn't been the one getting knocked unconscious most nights.

"You didn't want to be his target anymore," Booth said softly, staring into Annie Lowell's eyes. "You wanted him to leave you alone, I…" Booth squeezed his eyes shut, wrenching the words from his chest. "I can _understand_ that, but…but it's not right. It's _not_. You could walk away. She can't, she never had a choice… " Booth's voice broke. "_Please_. Please help her now, at least." He cast his eyes past her, at the police car Sean was sitting in, and Annie followed his gaze. "He can't hurt you anymore. And I…I need to find her. Please."

Annie closed her eyes. "I don't…I don't know where he took her, but…there was one time, Sean…Sean left her in the car trunk. For two days she was in there I don't…I don't know if anyone's checked-"

Booth spun on his heel, running into the house and through to the kitchen, speeding past bewildered police officers and snatching up the car keys he'd walked past twenty times over the past few hours.

Within seconds he was in the garage, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the key. "Bones! I'm coming, I'm right here, just hold on a second…"

Two police officers and his grandfather had just appeared behind him when the trunk popped open.

A strangled scream, half of worry and half of relief, rose from Booth's throat: Brennan was curled inside, unconscious, dried blood staining her cheek and clothes.

In seconds, one of the police officers had run out to alert the medics, and the other was stepping in front of Booth to check her pulse, just as Hank pulled Booth back.

"Is she alive?" he demanded shakily.

An eternity of seconds seemed to pass before Officer Frost twisted to meet his eyes, nodding. "She's alive. But we need to get her to a hospital."

~(B*B)~

When Brennan's eyes opened, the brightness of the room was jolting. She closed her eyes, the circumstances before she lost consciousness screaming back to her.

Car trunk. Booth, alone with Sean.

Fresh terror swelled, and his name spilled like a whimper over her lips. "Booth…"

Suddenly a warm, familiar hand slipped into hers. "I'm right here, Bones…"

She opened her eyes, gasping.

Booth was in a chair beside her hospital bed, looking exhausted but smiling.

Brennan's entire body went weak with relief. "You're…you're okay…" She closed her eyes again, tightening her grip on his hand. "What…what happened?"

Booth shifted was he was sitting on the edge of her bed. "It's okay. You're going to be fine, and…Sean's in jail, Bones. He can't hurt you anymore that's…that's all that matters."

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears. "How?"

"When I woke up and you were gone…" Booth swallowed hard, glancing down at their joined hands. "I ran across the street to call the police but…but we couldn't find you…" He sighed, shaking his head a little. "They know now, Bones. They know what he does to you and…and you're safe."

"But he…he hurt you…"

"I'm okay, I'm fine…now that you are." he soothed her immediately. Booth drew a breath, holding her gaze. "Bones, what Joey tried to do to you…I _swear_, I had no idea-"

"I know you didn't," Brennan cut him off, her voice shaking. "I…I'm sorry I believed him, I thought I was processing the evidence logically but I was wrong, I should have known you wouldn't-"

"It's okay, Bones. I'm just so sorry that happened to you, any of this…" Booth wrapped his arm around Brennan, letting her curl against him. "But I'm here, Bones."

She nodded, pressing her face into his shoulder until her vision cleared. "Thank you for saving me," she murmured, voice muffled against Booth's shirt.

Booth touched her chin, making her look at him. "You saved me, too." He paused, "And not just by hitting Lowell…in lots of ways."

For a long moment, they merely looked at each other, everything they'd been through, everything they'd become to each other passing between them.

Then Booth leaned forward slightly, tentative. He paused with his lips an inch away from hers, lifting his eyes, a question.

Brennan bridged the gap in answer, closing her eyes and kissing him softly.

They stayed that way, entangled and quiet, making up for lost time, until a doctor came in and pointedly cleared her throat.

The next several hours were chaotic with police officers wanting statements, and Brennan's social worker guiltily asking for explanations, with Pops coming by to check on the both of them.

Booth never left Brennan's side. And when the doctors cleared the others out, insisting that Brennan rest, Booth stubbornly refused to leave until they agreed to make an exception to visitor hours and let him stay with her.

So Booth cut off the lamp above the hospital bed and settled into the tiny bed with Brennan, her head pillowed beneath his arm, one finger absently tracing the pattern on Booth's shirt.

"I love you, Bones," Booth whispered, almost shyly, after they'd been silent for a few minutes. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Brennan's throat tightened, and she moved a little closer to him, squeezing her eyes shut. She could truthfully echo only one of those sentiments.

"I love you, too."

~(B*B)~

Brennan came out of the bathroom the next day, having changed out of her hospital gown and into the clothes her social worker had brought from the Lowell's house. She smiled at Booth, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting.

"You feel okay?" Booth asked, leaping to his feet, looking ready to catch Brennan mid-collapse.

"I'm fine," Brennan lifted her head automatically to the stitches along her hairline. "He's done worse. Really."

Booth's expression darkened, anger flashing briefly in his eyes before he physically shook himself. "That's over now."

Brennan nodded, threading their fingers together and sitting on the edge of the bed, Booth beside her. "I know. Thanks to you."

Kate Fisher, Brennan's social worker, came back into the room then, her face plastered with the overly cheerful smile she'd been wearing all morning. "Alright, Temperance. I have your discharge papers, so you're good to go!"

Booth squeezed Brennan's hand, lifting his gaze to the social worker. "Where exactly does she go now?"

Looking at both of them, Kate replied, "Well, right now we're going to go by the Lowells and pack…no one's there, don't worry. And then we're going to go to the local group home and get you settled for the night, and hopefully by tomorrow we'll have a new family. We're looking at a couple in Danville…"

"Wait, _what_?"

Brennan lowered her eyes at Booth's outburst; she felt his whole body stiffen beside her. She couldn't look at him.

Booth was staring at Kate Fisher, face pale. "Wha-…_Danville_? That's almost an hour away."

"Yes…" Kate replied slowly. "These small towns, it's usually hard to find available families in the same place on a moment's notice…"

"No!" Booth protested hotly. "No, she can't…you can't _move_, Bones." He set his jaw, determined. "She can stay with me, my grandfathers-"

"Seeley, honey, it doesn't work like that…we can't just send Temperance anywhere-"

"But you can send her to a house with an insane abusive…" Booth stopped abruptly, the volume of his own voice startling him. Brennan wasn't looking at him, and Booth inhaled slowly, trying to calm down. "Please, maybe…she could stay just until you find somewhere else, somewhere else local-"

"I'm sorry," Kate told him, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "I am."

"Bones, are you…do you hear this?" Booth looked at Brennan, and she painstakingly lifted her gaze to meet his, expression pained. "You knew?"

Her voice was tight, suppressing the sobs building in her chest. "I…I never stay in the same place, so I…I thought, probably…" A tear streaked down her cheek. "Sorry."

Booth put an arm around her, nodding, his throat tight. Several long, silent moments passed before he turned again to look at Kate. "When?"

"Probably tomorrow."

~(B*B)~

That night, Booth was sitting with his back against a tree, eyes on the group home across the street, waiting.

He'd stayed with Brennan for as long as he could that afternoon, but eventually her social worker had made him leave so they could make arrangement for her move tomorrow. Still; he hadn't left without making plans.

So just after midnight, the side window of the large house slid open, and Brennan crawled through, still pulling on a jacket as she ran across the yard.

Booth met her in the middle of the road, trying to smile. "Hey."

"Hi…" She kissed him, soft, and Booth responded immediately, his fingers tangled in her hair, trying to shut out the fact that it felt like a goodbye.

Eventually, he broke away, casting a glance at the dark, quiet house. "We probably shouldn't do this here…"

Brennan nodded, glancing down the street for Booth's car. "So where are we going?"

Booth smiled then, a genuine one. "Our spot."

~(B*B)~

"I don't wanna go."

Brennan's voice was small and hesitant, like a confession. They were lying curled together on a blanket in the middle of the football field.

"I don't want you to go," Booth replied quietly.

"Kate says…she says the couple's really nice. They have a five year old biological son, and an eight year old they adopted from the system. But…even after Sean, I don't care…I just want to see you."

Booth's eyes drifted shut, and he pulled her a little closer. "I know." He brushed his lips against her forehead, searching for words. "But we'll see each other. We played that high school in hockey, it's a forty five minute drive, that's not..that's not bad. I can…I can come on weekends. We'll call, and I'll visit and…we're going to be fine."

He sat up suddenly, looking down at Brennan. He smiled a little, tracing a finger down the bow of her cheekbone. "The important thing…is that you're out of the house. And Sean can't hurt you anymore."

Brennan smiled up at him, but it quickly faded. "There's going to be a trial…Kate said I probably have to testify…"

"That'll be here, right?" When she nodded, Booth continued, "Good. I'll be there, for the whole thing. You just have to tell the truth, Bones. And I'll be right there in front of you, the whole time."

Brennan was quiet for a long time, staring at him like she wanted to memorize his face. When, she finally spoke, her voice was thick. "Booth, what you've done for me…it means everything. But you don't have to…it's going to be difficult, and it's going to take a lot of effort. Traditionally, there's a certain amount of skepticism towards…long distance relationships jus for that reason, and you don't have to…you've already saved me, Booth. But you don't have to keep taking care of me just because there's no one else, I don't want you to think it's some sort of obligation…"

She was starting to ramble, but Booth touched his finger to her lips to quiet her. "Bones. You are the strongest, smartest, most incredible person I know. And I love you, so…stop talking about obligations. I'm not letting you go. I can't."

Brennan nodded for a long time. "Good. Because you're…" Her voice fell to pieces. "You're _all I have_…"

Booth leaned down and kissed her, their bodies pressed together, their words falling away, unneeded.

~(B*B)~

"Temperance." Kate shot her an apologetic look and opened the backseat of the car. "It's time. We need to get going."

Brennan looked at Booth, her eyes huge and frightened. She tightened her grip on his hand, like he could somehow keep her.

"Okay." Booth nodded, clearing his throat. "It's okay." He swallowed again, hating the lump forming in his throat, threatening his calm. "You're going to call me when you get there, right? So I'll have the number?"

"Yes."

"And I'm going to check it with Pops and…come visit next weekend."

"Good." Brennan's lips were trembling, and she was saying as little as possible so she wouldn't break down and cry like a child.

"Temperance." Kate's voice was gentle.

She nodded once, not moving her eyes from Booth's. "I have to…"

"I know." He stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands. "I love you."

Then he was kissing her, not caring that her social worker was watching, just wanting it to last as long as possible. Her tears slid over his fingers, and when they finally broke away, her quickly whispered "Love you, too" fell against his lips.

"Bye," he whispered roughly, leaning his forehead against hers for a brief moment.

"I'll call. First thing."

They kept their fingers linked together until the last possible second, until she had to close the passenger door of the car. Booth touched the glass once, their eyes locked, and he stood on the edge of the sidewalk long after the car had disappeared down the road.

~(B*B)~

_Three Months Later_

Booth was too keyed up to sit still. He bounced his cleats on the floor, staring out the dusty window of the bus, much to the annoyance of the teammate beside him.

Finally, the bus pulled to a stop in front of the high school, and Booth was out of his seat in seconds, throwing his bag over his shoulder and charging down the aisle before the rest of his team had even registered their arrival.

Most of the students gathered outside the field house were jeering at the visitor's bus, but Booth ignored them, scanning the crowd for the guaranteed friendly face.

"Booth!"

He turned just in time to catch Brennan against him, leaning down to enthusiastically greet his girlfriend, smiling against her lips as he did.

"Not bad, huh?" He murmured with a grin. "Mid week visit…told you the baseball team was a good idea."

"You play too many sports," she informed him with a smile.

"Probably," he agreed, kissing her again and keeping it up until a hand seized him by the nape of the neck and pulled him back.

"You're killing me, Seeley," Coach Anders said, rolling his eyes. "No one's going to take you seriously if they've seen you being a weak kneed loverboy. Now get to the visitor's locker room." The baseball coach clapped him on the back and walked off with the rest of the team.

Booth smiled apologetically at Brennan. "Sorry. Everything good?"

"Yes," she replied patiently, knowing it was his way of asking about her foster parents, the kids at school, and the upcoming Sean Lowell trial. "Promise."

"Good." He pulled a baseball hat down on his head and grinned. "You're pulling for me today, right, Bones?"

She frowned. "Traditionally, I think loyalty should lie with my own school, Booth…"

He groaned, mock offended. "Oh, c'mon Bones."

She laughed, proud of herself. "I'm making a joke. Of course I want you to win." She glanced over her shoulder. "So does Angela, even."

Booth followed Brennan's gaze to the girl hovering in the background, staring at him with a scrutinizing expression and, smirking, shooting Brennan an approving thumbs up.

"Good." Booth glanced toward the locker room, where all his teammates had disappeared. "I really gotta go. But I'll see you after?"

"Yes." Brennan kissed him again, quickly, then headed to where Angela was waiting, waving at him. "Hit a goal for me."

Booth laughed, unable to wipe the goofy expression off his face in spite of the ribbing he was bound to get from teammates. "I'll do my best, Bones."


End file.
